My corner office setup is great, but not conducive to privacy. The glass wall and door, as one would expect, are at the end of a hallway and across from other offices. Anyone, in those opposite offices, or simply walking down the hall for that matter, has an open view into my office. I love the open office design as they call it, but again, doesn’t help with privacy. Walking into my office you are facing the left side of my desk, which sits between the glass wall and a large window that looks out to the driveway and parallel street. Between the desk and the glass wall. Sits a small conference table with two chairs. Brittany knocked on the glass door, walked in as I looked up from my computer, and was right on time for our meeting.
“Have a seat,” I said motioning to a chair at the conference table.
Brittany is one of those girls that just gets your attention. She isn’t what you would call drop-dead gorgeous, but she is just damn sexy and something about her makes her very attractive. She is early twenties, not fresh out of college, but not of worldly experience either. Maybe that is part of the mystique. She is hard to figure out and is known around the office as being a cold, prude. Anytime someone makes the slightest sexually charged comment, she finds a way to leave the conversation. She is about 5’6” and what I call curvy fit in that you can tell she used to be athletic, maybe a cheerleader or dancer, but hasn’t worked out too hard in a while. Solid C cup with a small waist above a plump but tight ass and hips you can grab on to.
I couldn’t help but notice she was dressed a little differently than usual. Her usually more conservative attire has been replaced with something on the sexier side. I had never seen her in a mini skirt before today and this one was quite an attention-getter, red and stopping just above the knees, but with a slit along the left side that seemed to extend about halfway up her thigh. It was hard to be discreet. Her white shirt was a bit sheer, not see-through, but enough so to know she was wearing a black bra underneath.
Her skirt rode up her thighs as she sat down. She made no effort to pull the hem back down, either. My curiosity began to peak, and it took some effort not to look down. It took more effort when I noticed she was looking down at her own lap and my quick glance revealed that her shirt was unbuttoned down to where the middle of her bra would be. I wondered if it was an accident and again lifted my gaze to her face where there appeared to be a knowing grin. My curiosity rose a little higher.
We started our meeting as usual with some casual small talk. I could tell something was up as Brittany seemed nervous and a little fidgety, shifting her ass around in the chair quite a bit, the hem of her skirt slipping up a little more each time. I took a quick glance down every chance I got, hoping to see a little more thigh.
Her legs are muscular and clearly whatever sport she played had not left her muscles yet. She moved forward in the chair, her ass half on and half off, and leaned forward to hand me a page to look at. Her breasts squeezed together with her reaching motion and her shirt opened enough for me to have a good look. And while reaching to take the paper from her hand made my sneak peek a little less obvious, I looked up to find her staring straight into my eyes; a very knowing stair.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“Yes, this looks great,” I replied while looking down at the worksheet.
“That’s not what I mean,” she said.
I looked up, caught off guard, and stammered an apology. “It’s OK,” she said, “I am just messing with you.”
She relaxed and reclined back in the chair without sliding her ass back, her knees parted slightly, and it was all I could do not to stare down.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing,” I replied, maintaining eye contact, and trying to keep a steady voice.
She reached up to touch her shoulder-length blonde hair, her right hand brushing it behind her ear, and then slid her fingertips down to her shoulder, collarbone, and slowly to her right breast, circling her middle finger slowly around where her nipple would be hiding behind her bra. After a few slow circles, she stopped. Realizing my eyes had followed her hand, I looked up.
Her tongue parted her lips and she softly said, “Sorry, I felt an itch.” I could only hope the growing bulge in my pants wasn’t becoming too obvious.
“Yes, well perhaps we should continue this another time,” I said, not knowing what else to do.