Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Writing Exercise - Under the Desk



“No, I don’t think you heard me,” Ethan’s voice was even, soft even, as he stared across the room, through the open door, and out at Michelle’s desk. “Well, Frank, if you can’t be there for the closing, I think it’s time I found another property lawyer.” He knew she could hear him, knew she recognized the tone in his voice, but she didn’t turn toward his office. Does she know I am watching her? Can she feel it?
“Mister Barrett, I don’t think that’s necessary. I mean, you and I have had a long…”
“Yes, Frank, I understand. Please send Michelle your final invoice. Thank you for all your help over the years.” Michelle turned her head at the sound of her name and met Ethan’s gaze. She’s really quite pretty.Ethan looked her over. Her posture was perfect; her back as straight at the cricket bat that leaned against the wall near his window. Her hair was wrapped around a black onyx chopstick, a Christmas present he had picked up in Tokyo the year before.
She smiled and then returned to the stack of paper in front of her.
“Mister Barrett, wait just a…”
Ethan set the receiver down and stepped over to the window at the back of his office. “Michelle?”
The young woman stepped into through the door and swept a rogue curl of blonde hair out of her face. “Yes, Mister Barrett?”
“We need a new property lawyer.”
She swiped a finger across the tablet in her hand. “Yes, sir.”
Ethan sat down behind his desk and watched his assistant as she concentrated on the tablet. She was dressed in a simple black skirt, a white blouse, and black high heels that had a number of straps around the ankle. She wore the shoes for me. He almost smiled at the thought. The straps were meant to remind him, the straps, and the little red tie around her neck.
“Which firm would you like to approach,” she looked up from the tablet.
“Ingram’s firm has some new blood. Imra, that was her name.”
Michelle’s fingers worked the tablet furiously and, within a moment, she had the name. “Bridgette Imra, yes, she’s at Ingram and Fletcher. Would you like me to contact her?” She looked up and the little rogue hair escaped her ear and fell across her left eye. She lifted her hand and tucked it behind her ear a little embarrassed by the way Ethan stared at her.
“Yes, call Fletcher and tell him I’m coming over tomorrow to meet with him, Ingram, and Miss Imra.”
Michelle’s touched her screen. “Absolutely, what time would you like me to tell him?” She didn’t look up.
“Six o’clock,” Ethan touched his desktop, the little inset screen in the corner, and the windows tinted to forty-percent, darkening the entire room in shades.
Michelle didn’t look up. Her feet shifted like she had to suddenly adjust her weight to remain upright, and she bit the corner of her bottom lip. Control, Michelle. Ethan watched her hands, they trembled as she manipulated the tablet, and he could almost feel her struggling. Come on, he thought,you can do this.
Michelle finished her notes, took a deep breath, without being too obvious, and composed herself before she looked back at her employer. “Is there anything else, sir?” Her voice betrayed the slightest hint of excitement but her eyes were steady and firm.
“That was well done,” he was being honest, she had learned a great deal of control over the past two weeks.
She blushed, “thank you, sir.”
“Come here,” he looked over and thought of the first night he had begun teaching her.
She took a step and then froze, “Miss Thompson, from downstairs will be arriving any minute.”
Ethan held out his hand. “Yes?”
Michelle stepped toward him, her eyes went wider with each step, but he could see the struggle. She wanted to run into his arms, wanted him to take her and pull her close.
He watched her walk, watched each stride as she moved across the room. She really was beautiful. She stopped a foot from him, he could smell her perfume.
She looked up at him. “Yes, sir?” Her voice quivered slightly, like she was barely able to force herself to obey.
“Under the desk,” Ethan pointed to the dark, little alcove his chair filled.
“Yes, sir.” Michelle swallowed and turned toward the desk.
Ethan watched her tight little ass swing as she walked away from him and remembered the red tie he had worn the first night, the tie he had used to blindfold her and then to tie her hands to the bed.
She set the tablet on the desk, bent over slowly, allowing Ethan to watch the black skirt as it rode up, and showed off the charcoal-colored stockings.
He wanted to tear them, wanted to reach down and forcibly remove and reveal the round cheeks of her ass. Control, he thought.
She climbed into the cubby-sized hole and turned around. The look on her face was priceless, her eyes shined with expectant delight. It had been weeks since Ethan had touched her, weeks since he had taken her home and shown her what a master really was.
“Mister Barrett?” Ellen Thompson, head of Barrett Industries bio-chem department stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Michelle wasn’t at her desk.”
Ethan took a breath and completely ignored the young woman under his desk. “No, Ellen, it’s fine. She just stepped out. Come in.” He walked over to his desk, waited until Ellen had taken a seat, and then sat and moved his chair forward.
“You wanted to talk about the recent developments with J3Th?” Ellen voice started. “As you know, testing for J3Th…”
Michelle’s fingers were on his thighs, slowly rubbing the tops of his legs, slowly moving higher.
Ethan took a deep breath. “Yes, Ellen, I know about the testing, what I was concerned with was the consistent budget overruns in your department.”
Ellen sputtered for a moment. “Yes, well, as you know, the drug has shown a marked improvement in…”
Ethan stopped listening as Michelle’s patience faltered. The rubbing stopped and her nimble fingers worked the zipper of his pants, and then scrambled inside to pull his cock free.
He focused on his breathing, staring at Ellen while she talked and making mental notes of the words of the coming out of her mouth.
It wasn’t easy. Michelle’s hands were eager, and once his cock was free, exposed to the cool air conditioning of the office, he almost visibly shivered when Michelle’s mouth enveloped him.
“Budget! You’re over budget, Ellen.” Michelle’s fingers wrapped around the base of his turgid member and began stroking him while she bobbed her head back and forth.
“Yes, I understand, but if you can give the team a little more time, I think…”
Ethan shifted in his seat. He could barely focus. His cheeks felt hot, and his heart was beating like he had just finished a run.
Michelle’s mouth was so hot, so wet and the way she sucked, and tugged and wrapped her rough little tongue around the tip.
He thought of the red tie, the way he had bound her hands while he had buried his head between her legs, the way she had squealed while he had sucked her clit.
Every part of him wanted to reach under the desk and grab the back of Michelle’s head. He needed to fuck her face, needed to thrust his hips into her eager mouth.
“How many more days?” He wondered if Ellen heard the strain in his voice.
Ellen glanced at the window behind him and then back. “Seven. We need seven more days.”
It felt like his cock was at the back of Michelle’s throat; like she had swallowed every inch of him and the familiar pressure was starting to build. His chest tightened and he felt short of breath as he focused on trying to h
Can I do it? Can I come right now in front of Ellen without her knowing?
He felt Michelle shiver. Her mouth, her hand, she quivered around him and he realized she had just cum, silently, on the end of cock. And it was too much.
He took a little breath and stared down at his desk like he was considering what Ellen was saying when, in reality, he was shooting his seed in Michelle’s mouth.
She swallowed and then slid off his cock as he contracted again and again.
“That’s fine, Ellen.” Ethan said, “Seven days.”
Ellen stood and offered her hand, but Ethan just looked at it and then the door.

When she was gone, he pushed the chair back and stared down at Michelle. She was a mess. Most of her smiling, happy face was covered in his cum and there was a glistening wet spot on her stockings.


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