Technically not really summer yet, it was still a few weeks away, but just try to tell the weather what to do. The man on the radio warned that it would reach the high eighties before noon, then of course went into full 'scare the public' mode with warnings of heat stroke, hydration, blah blah blah. I tuned him out, thinking how fortunate I was. I had scheduled an off-site meeting with a vendor several towns away from corporate headquarters. Could life get any better than being out of the office for the afternoon on a beautiful day? I was nearly giddy as I strode up the two flights and made my way to my office.
Early, as always, I put on the coffee in the break room, then returned to my office and settled into my chair. I could usually get some comprehensive work done before the place filled with the rumble of chattering folks and of course, my idiot boss who would pester me for nonsense in order to keep up the charade of competence. At nearly fifty I figured I had at least ten good productive years in front of me before I backed it down and rode my rep until retirement. I fired up the email and spreadsheets and got to work.
But this morning I got little done. It was like someone had turned on the summer fashion switch. Me, I was still in khakis and a long sleeve shirt. Apparently I'd missed the memo that all the young women had gotten. Wear revealing and comfortable summer clothes, It must have said, because all the young ladies began drifting in to work, in twos and threes, wearing the first of the summer garb. Long flowing pattern skirts, sleeveless tops in bright colors, a few daringly deep necklines and cleavage. Distracting, to say the least.
My assistant, Jacqueline, turned out to be no exception. While she always dressed nicely, if a bit off the beaten path. At twenty-six she favored studs and bling that often pushed the limits of the flavor workplace dress. I'd often wondered what her 'going out' wardrobe entailed. But she stayed inside the letter, if not the spirit of the company's professional dress code.
She delivered her usual "good morning" through my open office door as she approached her desk and dropping her bag on the chair. The office wall was glass and I looked up to retun her greeting as she shuffled aroumd her cube, flicking on her computer while still standing. My good morning to her was nearly choked off.
Her flimsy full-length dress was dark with stark flowing white patterns. Thin straps held it on her shoulders, showing an expanse of smooth flesh, bare shoulders and arms. She casually lifted the light sweater she always left on her chair and slipped it on as I watched from the corner of my eyes. Official company policy for summer garb was much more detailed, but she followed it diligently and covered the exposed shoulders and armpits. Her dress swayed around her long, lean legs, her back to me, her butt cheeks swaying attractively under the floaty fabric.
But what caught my attention was the slits in the full length garment. As she rolled her chair away to sit in her cube, the one facing me parted, revealing almost her entire leg for a brief instant of flawless slender flesh.
Her screen lit up and I put my head down, pretending to read something important on my desk when she began to turn back to me. She had been an excellent hire; easy on the eyes, upbeat almost to chipper and she attacked her tasks with vigor and enthusiasm. But our relationship, while open and friendly, was strictly professional. I held myself to a standard in the workplace, and wasn't about to let myself be caught ogling her legs.
She asked a question about the vendor visit I'd scheduled and I answered more brusquely than I'd intended. I pretended to finish reading the the paper I wasn't reading and looked up at her.
"Sorry," I lied, waving the paper as though it were an excuse. "We'll leave around noon. Pull the last fifty-two week reports, seven copies. And add two copies of the vendor x-ray, for us." As I spoke she sat and her leg below the knee appeared again for a brief instant as she swung her legs under the desk.
The rest of the morning was gratefully distracting as we each struggled to get ahead of work, answering emails that would normally wait for the late afternoon, chasing problems with solutions and explaining tactics and strategies that should have been obvious from prior communications. But I occasionally found myself glancing up to check for a leg flash. Her computer sat in the corner of her cube, positioning her at a three-quarter view from the back. I saw nothing the rest of the morning and chided myself for trying.
It wasn't that I'd never seen her leg before. She'd worn skirts to work occasionally in the eight months she'd been with me. Knee length, proper workplace attire. A nicely turned calf developed playing sports in high school and college, something else that had played well in her interview. Familiarity with competition, teamwork, and hard work were qualities I looked for. My peer group looked for schooling in the field, I looked for a business degree and busy schedules. An ability to handle multiple priorities at the speed of business. She'd fit the bill well, working through school, track and field, decent grades.
So why was I looking at her legs like she was just a sexy girl in a long slit skirt?
I checked with my contact at the vendor, confirmed the meeting schedule. It was set for after lunch, an hour drive from the office. I figured we'd stop for lunch on the way if we left at noon. He confirmed back, and I spent the rest of the morning putting out fires and preventing others. The glory of middle management.
At about a quarter to twelve she stepped into the office, leaning in the doorway, waving a Manila folder. It was her usual move when she just wanted to call in to me, half in and half out, her upper body leaning forward, one hand on the doorframe, one leg just over the threshold and the other firmly outside.
"I have the reports, I'll bring them," she said, efficiently and quickly. "Just gonna finish up and set my out of office, ready to go when you are," she finished, and waited for my nod.
It was slow in coming. Her leg, the one inside the doorway, had slipped through the slit and screamed for my attention. Exposed flesh from the top of her fashionable strappy heeled sandals up to the point where the slit began, about two-thirds up a gorgeous white thigh. My eyes tracked every inch as I forced my vision up to her face to see a half smile and raised eyebrows.
"Oh, okay," I said with feigned nonchalance and glanced at my watch.
"Don't forget your cards," she reminded. I had a tendency to leave my business cards in the office. Grateful for the distraction I grabbed some from the holder on my desk and she shuffled her position, her leg vanishing inside the flowing fabric. I exhaled.
"Couple of minutes, and we'll go."
" 'kay," she replied and turned and left, a vortex of black and white flashing a molded calf and ankle. I took another deep breath and regained my composure. Stop it, I reminded myself, she's just a kid, nearly half your age! I shuffled papers on my desk and turned to my email, setting the out of office. You could be her father, for chrissake! I dashed off a quick note to my lazy idiot boss, reminding him where I'd be and leaving my cell in case of emergencies. I set the away message on my voicemail, packed my stuff in the briefcase and shut down the PC.
I hit the men's room before leaving, an hour in the car, and all. No sense creating an unnecessary stop. She was waiting for me when I returned.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Just getting my bag," I told her. I ducked into my office, grabbed it from the chair where I'd left it and turned to see her start heading for the stairs, a calf and ankle disappearing from my view. Gonna be a long day, I thought, focus! I headed out and followed her a few steps behind, risking surreptitious glances at her butt cheeks jiggling in her purposeful stride. I had a fairly brisk pace when I walked and she could mostly keep up with me walking side by side, talking as we walked.
But now she was in front, and my mind wandered to her backside, elegantly framed and highlighted by the clinging silky fabric, on display below the short accommodating workplace sweater draped off her bare shoulders. The round globes of her butt moved elegantly, up and down, side to side, fit and firm with just a little jiggle. My thoughts as to her undergarments startled me, envisioning a thong and imagining her bare flesh separated from my view by just this thin fabric.
Stop it! my professional brain screamed at me. You're better than that ! But one corner of my brain held the image closely, not wanting to let it go. She has an incredible ass, it told me. And those legs, peeking out...
I brushed the thoughts aside and thought of the vendor visit. We hit the bottom of the stairs and made our way to the employee exit and out to the parking lot. As we came out the door, escaping the air conditioning cool, the unseasonably hot air embraced me with both arms.
"Wow, I don't miss winter," I quipped.
"That's for sure," she answered.
Being an early arriver, I was parked close to the exit. She waited outside the door for me to lead her to my SUV, and took the opportunity to strip off the sweater. "You don't mind, right?" she verified, "just for the trip."
Mind? Are you kidding? The straps hung gracefully over her shoulders, two on each side, supporting a squared neckline safely above her cleavage, one side shifting to show a glimpse of clear bra strap from underneath. I knew from the shadows beneath her thin white sweater that the back came down lower, just at bra level. All that bare shoulder and arm and upper chest joined her neck in a lightly tanned flawless expanse of youthful loveliness.
I blinked it away, turning my head, pretending to look for my vehicle. I knew exactly where it was. "No, I don't mind," I tried to say casually. And wondered how it sounded.
"Good. It's fucking hot!"
You got THAT right, I thought.
I led to the car, a Lincoln Navigator two rows in, and clicked the button that opened it and lit it up like a Christmas tree. It was in a spot facing us, so I went right and she circled the long way around the left to the passenger side. I opened my door and took a blast of overheated trapped air that nearly stifled me, then threw my bag in the back as she opened the door. She dropped hers in the passenger footwell and my eyes nearly popped from my head as she climbed up and in, her dress rising up her raised thigh, coming almost completely out through the slit. Holy shit, the entire thigh, up to her hip, I swear! I fumbled the car keys and scrabbled them into the ignition as she settled into her seat. Settling into the hot leather seat, I cranked the AC to most of the way up in an attempt to cool down both the car and my ardor.
I concentrated on the driving, watching for cars and pedestrians in the parking lot, watching for traffic as I pulled out onto the road, trying not to keep re-seeing that lovely leg over and over. There was no direct highway where we were going, but there were almost-highways, state roads with few lights, and I navigated the secondary roads carefully and attentively until I reached them. We'd been there before and I knew the way, and there was an Italian place near their location that was good for lunch. Even though it wasn't necessary I kept checking my side mirrors, and taking quick glances at her and wondering if she'd noticed.
The sweater was draped over her bag at her feet and she reclined the chair a little. Her legs were straight in front of her for most of the beginning of the trip, just a knee peeking out. I reached the entrance of the state road and focused on the merge, but in the corner of my eye I saw her adjust her position.
As I blended into traffic I saw that she had relaxed in the big leather passenger seat. The motion had dragged her dress up in the back a little so that the top of the slit was nearly at her hip. I increased to highway speed and she lifted her left leg, causing the slit to part and fall to the side, the front panel between her legs.
And her entire leg rose up slightly, visible from ankle to hip, lazy and languorous and casual and oh, so incredibly sexy. We had about thirty minutes to the lunch place and I wondered if I could keep my eyes off that expanse of skin.
I tried. I failed.
I kept glancing at it as we drove in silence. After five minutes of pretending to not look while getting an overwhelming eyeful, I had to say something.
"Jacquie?" I asked. "Could you put that away? I'm only human."
"Oh," she said casually, and made a muffled grunt. "I didn't think you'd noticed." She shifted her legs and pulled the dress over the exposed flesh, giving my sweating skin at least a chance to feel the vehicle's AC.
"Notice?" I asked, her casual answer making me more familiar than I felt, "geez, I could practically see your panties!"
"I doubt that," she replied laconically, leaning on an elbow and gazing out the window.
"It was practically up to your waist, you know," I hinted knowingly.
"Doesn't matter," she said drily, turning back to me. "I'm not wearing panties."
I nearly lost control of the truck as my body and brain reacted to this information. Okay, so much for the thong concept! I risked a glance at her face and she was grinning like a Cheshire Cat from under her eyes. I was still stunned by her boldness; we'd never talked at such a personal level as this before, and I was a bit off-balance. Looking at her face I allowed myself to admit it was just bawdy teasing.
"Yeah, right," I said noncommittally, shaking my head and turning back to the road. But the possibility whispered to me, deep inside my ear, hard to hear, harder still to ignore. She's hot, it growled, she's sexy and young and tight and fun. Admit it. Okay, I could agree to all that. But I argued back in the brief seconds of silence. She works for me, it would be wrong, I'm old enough to be her father, it's not professional, I'm too old.
Not THAT old, my cock chimed in, filling and rearing its opinion.
Stop it, all of you, I scolded the children. She's a young lady, just feeling the season and teasing a little! Young folks do that!
That hushed the rabble enough for me to hear her next words.
"I was starting to think you were dead," she giggled, "thanks for letting me know." She blew out a coughing laugh and turned in her seat. "I thought I'd lost it there!"
"Lost?"
"My ability to turn an attractive man's head," she answered brightly. "You never look." I watched the road. But motion caught the corner of my eye and I peeked sideways to see her leg come up again, bare and slow. She'd turned in the seat, angling herself into the corner by the door, and her foot lifted up to the console. My control issues wanted to scream for her to get her shoe off the leather, but it jumped back into the chorus at the site of that supple, bare flesh. One side of the slit bunched between the leg and the seat and her hands were pressed together between her legs, gathering the center panel and exposing the top of her other thigh.
"So, did you like it?" she asked, more quietly now, but with the same cheery tone. Her leg waved back and forth, a flag of erotic and lighthearted sexual invitation. My libido stood up and saluted. "Seeing my leg? Mister 'I pretend I'm above all that'?"
"Very much," I admitted. "Surprised, but pleasantly so," I grinned. I kept an eye on the road, which was mostly empty, but trying not to lose my lane. "Very attractive."
"So are you, you know," she said, her bare leg still waving back and forth. The road was boring and the same as every other road, but I kept my eyes on it. Most of the time. "Attractive. All the girls talk about you. They all say so." She snickered a little. "They call you 'The Untouchable' because you don't get familiar."
I felt my eyes roll. "I probably didn't need to know that."
She laughed lightly. I stared out over the front of the truck. "Well, it's true." I glanced at the dashboard clock. Another twenty minutes to the Italian place for lunch. "You don't have to believe it." Think about the food, my brain chided. No fucking way, my cock countered. "And something else is true that you probably don't believe."
I kept my eyes ahead, bracing for more office gossip and girl talk. Watched the lines. Looked at the signs. Waited. Watched the road. Waited.
"Hey!" she called abruptly and I instinctively turned her way to see her lift up the center panel of her dress and flash me a two-second glimpse of her pussy. I gasped. A tightly trimmed patch sat above beautiful thin lips and a pinch of inner labia peeking out near the top, below her hood. She dropped the dress and pulled her leg down, turning straight in her seat with her hands pushing the panel down between her legs.
I turned back to the road in front of us and straightened the truck. Holy fuck she showed me her cunt! I just kept repeating the phrase over and over in my head, comvincing myself it was real and memorizing the moment, memorizing the sight, struggling to concentrate with all the blood from my brain running...elsewhere. I reached for the AC and turned it the rest of the way up.
"I told ya," she chided. "I figured you didn't believe me." She let out a girlish laugh that betrayed her nervousness and reminded me of how young she was.