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“Happy Birthday from all of us” said the card on the desk, small consolation when the stunning temp who had sat opposite for the last three weeks had left last Friday. You’d been hoping that your birthday drinks would provide an opportunity to break the ice…
A woman in her late thirties arrived about 10 and was shown to the desk opposite. She wore a grey skirt, low heels, blouse, and hung her jacket on the back of her chair. She was maybe a bit plumpish, medium brown hair tied back in a low ponytail. Well kept but plain.
She took out a small photo and plastic toy from her bag and put them on the desk.
You thought you’d better be polite as the card and balloons behind your chair were a bit of a give away, so you invite her to join you and the rest of the office crew for a lunch time drink at the wine bar round the corner. She looked slightly uncomfortable at the prospect, smiled, but kept her head down and declined.
‘No loss’ you thought and got on with the daily monotony.
Lunchtime drinks were the usual raunchy office humour with a bit of innuendo. Nice enough but not the outcome you had hoped for. Then something caught your eye… wasn’t that the new woman going past the window, perhaps she changed her mind, you thought she turned in to the bar but she didn’t come to join you, ‘ must have been mistaken’ you thought.
A few minutes later a cheer went up and three dancers came out on to the stage at the other end of the bar. The music pumped up and more drinks were required.
Up at the bar you idly glance towards the stage where the three dancers are performing, three ‘ample’ ladies in their thirties pleasing the crowd very well judging by the whistles. One of them had long brown hair and had her back to the audience. You liked the look of those hips as she gyrated to the music.
“Where’s those beers?” brought you back to reality, and you returned to your colleagues with a tray of drinks.
* * *
Office temp pt 2
Back at the office and a bit dozey from too many rushed beers, you notice the new woman is late back. She hurries in two minutes behind everybody else, and sits at the desk. You wonder if she looks a little flustered, maybe she’s hot from rushing back to work, or is she wearing a little more make-up than this morning? The phone rings… reality calls.
Later that afternoon you part overhear a private call she makes, was that something about ‘you know I don’t do that kind of work ‘ You wonder what the agency might be offering, but the call is short and the office is noisy.
For the rest of the week she comes in at 10, says little, and rushes off at lunchtime carrying her big black shoulder bag.
Friday you decide to work late, monthly sales returns to do. You ask if she wants to stay and do a few extra hours, she looks at her watch and politely declines.
The returns take longer than you expect, there’s nothing in the fridge at home, and the thought of going shopping fills you with dread. As you pass, the welcoming glow and familiar hubbub of the wine bar draws you in.
Scantily clad young waitresses work the evening shift. They all know how to tease the punters and have a string of put-downs well rehearsed for every occasion. Over on the stage a black woman in a white g-string is dancing seductively. You start to relax.
The next dancer comes on, a woman in her thirties with long flowing brown hair and slightly too big hips but an ample bust to balance her figure. The music turns bluesey and you start to watch as her hips and waist gyrate in perfect time to the sexy undertones. She looks vaguely familiar, but heavily made-up you wonder if she’s as young as she looks.
* * *
Office temp 3
The dancer moves so seductively around the pole and chair on the stage, you start to wonder about other moves she might be good at, and despite the beers in your otherwise empty stomach, you sense a familiar tingle as your b@lls tighten.
You move over to the bar and sit on the corner stool for a better view of the stage without joining the rowdies in front of the stage. The barman notices you haven’t taken your eyes off the dancer, you just can’t quite be sure, she looks like the office temp, but those curves, those moves, surely that plain frumpy woman could never move like that.
The barman comes over and you change from beer to scotch. “Mover ain’t she” he smiles, nodding towards the stage. You move uncomfortably on the stool halkalı escort to adjust yourself. “Not bad” you reply nonchalantly. The barman leans over and says quietly “You can get a private showing in the back if you’re interested… but not her, the black girl and one of the waitresses do it”. The music changes and you look up to see the black girl is back on stage, dressed in red and dancing right at the front of the stage so the guys can slip notes into the top of her hot pants. You have a couple more scotches and turn from your stool to leave when you see the back of a woman in a raincoat with a big black shoulder bag leave the pub. “You off then?” the barman spoke behind you. You turned quickly towards him, then glanced back at the door, but she had gone. “Fancy a bit of that one do you?” the barman enquired.
* * *
Office temp 4
“Tell you what mate” the barman gave a wry smile, “give me a few days and I’ll see what I can arrange… for a small fee of course”.
Monday and Tuesday she wasn’t at her desk. Wednesday she appeared again, in the same grey skirt, beige coat and carrying the huge black shoulder bag. You find yourself watching her intensely, looking for some indication that you might be right. Surely two women could not look so alike and not be at least related? Lunchtime you come out of a meeting to find she’s already gone to lunch. You are so intrigued by this feeling that you grab your coat and hurry round to the wine bar.
The barman greets you like an old friend. Before you have time to order a pint, he places a Scotch in front of you. “Thought you’d like to celebrate” he grinned “looks like she’s changed her mind. £30 for half an hour, plus £10 for me”.
You quickly down your Scotch, in the hopes that it will numb the shock that you are about to hand over forty quid just to satisfy your curiosity.
You order another Scotch and hand over a fifty-pound note. The barman disappears to the back of the bar and returns with your scotch, a small plastic card that reads Room 2, and an even smaller amount of change. “Side door, 6.30” says the barman, and goes off to serve further down the bar.
* * *
Office temp pt 5
“6.30… on a Wednesday! I must be mad!” your thoughts somersault round in your head as you leave the bar to get back to work.
The afternoon is gone before you know it, two meetings, both of which run late, you get back to your desk at 6.10, feeling frustrated and angry. The office is empty. You reach for your jacket and check the pocket for your keys, but feel instead the small plastic card the barman gave you. “Fuck it” you swear out loud, now feeling more deeply angry that your time is not your own. You take out the card and look at it, the tune that had been playing as you left the bar filters back into your thoughts. You glance at your watch – ‘Oh why not’ you think to yourself, just go round there anyway and decide when you get there.
As you approach the bar you notice a dark narrow alley to the right of the building. You glance at your watch as you wait for a chance to cross the road, hoping for time to go in for a drink while you decide, but it’s already almost half past. You dodge the traffic as you cross and end up on the pavement opposite, just two feet from the alley.
You step into the shadows and feel the air cool with each step. Half way down the building there is a wooden door with no bell. You try the handle, and it opens.
* * *
Office temp pt 6
Inside you find a long hall, gaudily painted but shabby. There is a sort of ‘noise’ about the place that is an indistinguishable mixture of the sounds coming from each of the rooms. Something you half recognise is being played loudly upstairs, and the muffled bar noise can be heard through the walls. You start to move along the hall. Each door is painted a different colour with a large number, you pass one and three, gripping the card tightly inside your jacket pocket you approach door two.
You turn to look at the door and take a deep breath. Your mind races a jumble of thoughts ‘Who, music, dancing, cash, why, hot, nerves, plastic, skin, moving gyrating hips’. A soft music starts to play from inside the room, and you lift the card from your pocket and drop it into the handle mechanism. A soft click unlocks the door and your hot sweaty palm pushes it open…
* * *
Office temp pt 7
The room inside taksim escort is dark, lit by scented candles and carefully positioned mirrors. An abundance of fabric covers the walls, windows and doorways, giving the room a tent-like almost Arabic feeling. Your nerves calm, you feel relaxed by the darkness and the quiet bluesy music that seems to be all around you.
The door softly clicks shut behind you and you feel two hands lift the weight of your jacket, your arms hang loosely as it slides down your back and off. You breath in deeply, relaxed for a moment then your startled mind races… where…who…? Soft hands run through your hair, down your cheeks and neck and start to massage your shoulders. Aware of the pressure your knees give way and you lower from standing to sitting on the corner of a firm bed. You try to turn but a soft voice says “no”…
* * *
Office temp pt 8
You close your eyes, these fingers feel good, the dark calmness of the room seems to be engulfing you…
You hear a faint jingle of bells somewhere outside, “don’t move” says the soft voice, the anger of the day has drifted away, you are in no mind to argue. The door clicks and opens, a cool draft enters the room and you feel fabric brush against your hand on the edge of the bed as it passes. You open your eyes and struggle to focus in the darkness as the door clicks shut again.
You are aware that the woman behind you is no longer there…
“Good evening Mr Metz”.. it’s a different voice! You turn towards the sound from your left and your eyes settle on a curvaceous woman in a low cut, short black dress. Long brown hair falls around her shoulders and frames her face. Your mouth drops open and she reaches forward touching your chin with her middle finger. As your mouth closes her index finger follows the outline of your lips, then she draws her hand back to her own face and slips the finger into her mouth… you swallow….
* * *
Office temp pt 9
She moves closer, standing in front of you now, her legs astride yours, your face just inches from her ample breasts which smell…wonderful.
Her hips sway gently in time to the soft music, her shoulders rocking back and forth. Her left hand runs through your hair, she raises the right hand back up to her mouth and moistens her middle finger between her deep red lips. She idly strokes her free hand down her body in time to the music, loitering momentarily on a nipple and her belly. Her left hand tilts your head downward to follow the movement of her free hand. She moves her hand from her belly across to your face and pushes her middle finger teasingly into your mouth, then her fingers disappear from sight inside the front of her dress, and back to your face, the sweet smell that now adorns her fingers makes your heart race.
You open your mouth to speak; she covers it with her hand to stop you. She pulls your hands from the bed up on to her thighs and rises up and down indicating you should stroke and investigate her hemline.
Your fingers reach up under the bottom of the hem towards her buttocks; her left hand strokes your face softly while her right hand silently undoes the bottom three buttons of the dress
* * *
Office temp pt 10
The dress now hangs slightly open and you can see a flash of thigh where the lace of her stocking tops meets milky white flesh. Your hands rise under the hem of the dress and you cup her buttocks in your hands. The dress starts to rise and open in front of you. Her hand tightens in your hair pulling your head back so that you can’t see the treasure you seek. She pushes you backwards onto the bed and walks round to climb on to the bed up by your head. You wonder what to say but your head seems empty and yet full at the same time!
She kneels beside your head as she moves swiftly down your body undoing the buttons of your shirt and trousers with such skill. The opening at the bottom of her dress now inches from your face, you can smell her sweet juices, and catch a momentary glimpse of those soft folds that await you. Almost without realising you lift the weight of your hips as she slides your trousers and pants down to your knees, and they drop to the floor. Lust takes over and you raise your arms to her hips and push the dress up in one swift movement to her waist, revealing her haven of soft white flesh and the pink moist entrance to your heaven.
* * *
office temp 11
You take hold şişli escort of her hips so she cannot move away, and hold her still, above your face. You pull her down close so that your tongue can investigate the soft cavern that awaits your attention. You slide your tongue deftly between the folds and into the moist heaven within. She gasps, you have taken her by surprise, she is more used to passive clients. You thrust your tongue deeply in and out of her moist pussy until you can taste her juices, then you pull her hard down onto your face until your mouth and chin are wet from her arousal.
You lift her hips and move out from underneath her, and stand to finish undressing. You have aroused her and flustered her, interrupting her control of the proceedings. She kneels on the bed and turns towards you as you step out of your trousers and drop your shirt to the floor. You stand before her naked, you undo the remaining buttons and remove dress now crumpled round her waist. She is voluptuous and curvy, full hips, full breasts and full lips.
You lay her down onto her back and kneel at her waist, laying your stiff and expectant cock between her breasts. She raises her head so that she can lick the end of it as it emerges between her soft mounds. Then she raises her hands behind your waist and pulls you up towards her head so that she can reach to take you fully into her mouth and throat. Your thrusts start to plunge deeper as your pleasure builds.
* * *
Office temp 12
She slides one hand down to circle her clit while you plunge slowly and deeply into her mouth, she wets one finger and uses it to probe at your arse as you thrust back and forth, this is getting a little too nice… you pull back and reverse down her body, using your body to push her legs wide apart. Kissing her neck and chewing at her breasts, you feel your heavy cock drop down between her legs, like a heat seeking missile, you sense the wetness of her open pussy and without warning thrust forwards. She groans as you enter her full hilt with one strong thrust. You groan with pleasure. It feels SO good! She links her ankles behind you raising her legs high to offer you the fullest depth of her body. Your balls slap against her arse, her body is sliding away from you with each thrust. As she slips off the side of the bed you both end up on the floor, you turn her over on to all fours and lunge into her again. She cries out it feels so deep, faster and faster you fuck her deep from behind. Her face pushed into the floor, one arm out in front of her to brace herself, the other is busy on her clit, you can feel her muscles inside start to milk your shaft as she reaches her orgasm. You grip her hips tightly as you come, your load surging to the very depths of her.
She moves forward, stands up and dresses, saying nothing, she picks up her coat and bag and walks out, leaving the door ajar as you sit on the edge of the bed and scrabble to get your clothes back on…
* * *
Office temp 13
You hear a click of the front door and a cool draught brings you to your senses. You look around the room in the semi-dark, looking for anything that might identify this woman. There is nothing. You pick up your jacket, wait a moment for the person in the corridor to pass, then leave quickly. As you pass the pub window you glance inside, the dark girl is dancing and the regular barman is on duty, you decide not to go in.
The next morning you feel slightly nervous at your desk, still unsure, worse still – less sure. You saw and heard nothing to confirm your hunch that this plain office temp may be the exotic dancer from the bar. Ten o’clock comes round and there’s no sign of her. You leave a list of tasks on her desk and go in to your meeting. Late lunch and still no sign, but the list is gone so you head for the bar.
The other guys from the office have got you a beer so there’s no need to speak to the barman who just nods in your direction. You find it difficult to concentrate on the conversation as your mind keeps wandering towards the stage where you catch a few glimpses of a woman with long dark hair dancing.
At the end of lunch you all walk back to the office together, and there at the desk is the office temp, already working. You feel relieved, this can’t be the same woman, it’s all a coincidence. There just wasn’t time for her to finish dancing, dress and get back to the office before you.
The rest of the day you feel more relaxed, a little tired, but definitely relaxed. At five o’clock you put on your coat and prepare for the walk to the station. As you fumble for your season ticket you feel something hard in your pocket, and pull out a small plastic card wrapped in a post it note. The note says Friday, the card you recognise, but this time it says Room 5…
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32