It’s not unusual for Karina to stop by my desk to acknowledge a comment made in a meeting or pop into a casual conversation at the beginning or end of a workday. But it is unusual for her to pull up a chair and show me something on her computer, as she did Friday of last week.
After all, Karina is our Chief Financial Officer, responsible for budgets, expenditures, maximizing profitability, and ensuring financial data compliance in our medium-sized corporation. I’m no grunt myself, heading up the group that accesses financial and product data used for reporting and web applications, but I am a few ticks below C-level execs on the company org chart.
“These are the data definitions for the inventory control tables. Maybe a peek inside would help?” Having immigrated to the U.S. with her Swiss or Austrian parents when she was in grade school, the German accent that remains in her low, confident voice intimidates most staff in our office. But to me, it arouses.
I made no secret of my gaze falling downward for a few seconds. The data tables weren’t the only thing I was getting a peek inside. Karina’s blouse was opened by at least one extra button, and her forward-leaning posture revealed the conspicuous lack of a bra.
I knew that she knew her nipple was on display, but somehow it didn’t shock me. Despite our disparity in titles, we aren’t too dissimilar in either age or business and technical understanding, so we have forged a good professional and personal working relationship. Though carefully keeping any banter from reaching our colleagues’ ears, we have been increasing the frequency of flirtations and innuendo in our conversations.
“Besides, I wanted to spread a little Christmas cheer,” Karina told me before leaning back and fastening that button.
“A nice bonus, to show that those at the top really care for us underlings,” I joked.
“We couldn’t be successful without a team like yours. Working hard.” Did she just emphasize the word hard? I watched Karina’s shapely ass lift off the chair and almost saunter through the door and turn toward her office, her half-professional, half-provocative skirt providing appealing back and side views.
· - ~ | ~ - ·
“You couldn’t show me via screenshare?” I popped into Karina’s office after lunch. I despise the overhead of in-person meetings where an email or IM would suffice. Except if the person is the attractive CFO. Several times a week, we collaborate via IM or screenshare to work out small issues, but with the light office crew due to many people taking a vacation day, the time seemed ripe to engage in some extended flirty banter.
After going over the proposed vendor payment adjustments, she took a seat on the edge of her desk, one foot on the floor and the other thigh resting along the desktop, her skirt bunched enough for me to get a good look between her thighs. “You wouldn’t quite get the same perspective with a screenshare, now, would you?”
I took in the sight of the wispy pussy hair adorning Karina’s peeking slit. Then, as quickly as they had spread, her thighs closed her short but otherwise businessy skirt and crossed legs hiding the treasure of which I had a momentary glimpse. I could have made myself believe her exposure was accidental, but her sultry smile was evidence to the contrary.
· - ~ | ~ - ·
“You couldn’t show me via screenshare?” Karina teasingly mimicked my earlier quip, striding into my office toward the end of the day.
“I think I’d be fired if I did,” I replied, rolling my chair back and spinning to face her. In the time since she had replied to my request for a visit a minute before, I had taken the liberty of scooping my balls through my zipper so that they joined my swelling shaft on full display.
“You seem to have packaged this and presented it nicely,” she choked out.
After I stood and tucked my junk away, and she had pretended to look at something on my screen, she was on her way. “We’ll be seeing more of each other at the Christmas party tonight, I imagine.”
· - ~ | ~ - ·
Our company's annual Christmas party was in a nearby country club this year. Karina made it a point to ask what I was drinking as we mingled, and joined me at the table I shared with some colleagues toward the end of the evening. I could swear her hand was inside the high slit of her elegant evening dress for a minute before she ran her slick-looking fingers twice around the rim of the new glass of scotch she had brought me. Yes, as I slowly sipped, distinct notes of female arousal spread through my mouth and nostrils.
In addition to having a high slit, her dress was backless, allowing her to easily pull the side in toward the center, showing me her full breast for a second after she beckoned me into the hallway leading to the restrooms.
We missed more than half of the door prize giveaways, as we had stalked each other to the deserted far wing of the country club. In a dimly-lit empty meeting room, with her perched on a stack of chairs, I got a much better perspective than just this afternoon’s peek. Dress hiked up, legs spread, we took our time to watch my stiff cock’s shallow, deliberate probing until her heels goaded me in deep.
Soon, sitting in a chair with Karina straddling me, panting, grinding her pussy over my rigid shaft, I was finally allowed handfuls and mouthfuls of those tits I had only glimpsed earlier. Moments after I erupted inside of her, she trembled with her own powerful orgasm.
After finding some napkins to wipe up the mess we made of ourselves, we stealthily rejoined the party, separately of course. I’m not sure whether we will continue to gain new perspectives, but I expect the CFO to pop into my office sometime this week to discuss.
