» Faking it

I paid the price...
“Hello, sweetie” he smiled, as I opened the front door. For a moment, he stood there, regarding me with a gleam in his eye before leaning forward to kiss me on the cheek.

“Do come in, dinner is fifteen minutes away”, I cooly motioned with a sideways nod of the head.

It had been a full seven days since we saw each other last. Seven days of typing, filing, answering telephones and associated drudgery, seven days of returning home to an empty house, seven evenings of half-heartedly prepared meals eaten alone, seven nights of having a double bed all to myself (which also included six phonecalls professing affection and of course the inevitable outcome after seven days of being apart, but that of course is another story).

He obediently followed me into the house, making some half-arsed chatter about what happened during his week at work. To be honest, I found myself nodding vaguely and half concentrating on snippets here and there as I poured a glass of wine into a champagne flute and handed it over to him.

In the dimmed light of the kitchen, I took a long look at him as I passed him the flute. He stood there in front of me, with blue eyes, dark unruly hair and a gleam in his eye that hinted very much that he appreciated the effort I’d gone to with my choice of eveningwear. I tip-toed up to him, looked up at those blue eyes and without averting my gaze, I picked the scarcely sipped glass from his hand and placed it on the worktop next to him.

He reached forward, very gentle and placed a hand on the back of my neck as his lips touched mine. Up until now, I’d coolly planned this in my head in minute detail during our six breathy phonecalls the previous week. However, I felt those meticulous preparations begin to slip from me as I returned his kiss with the palm of my hand pressed into the nape of his neck, pulling him closer and closer…

His had was round my waist. I could feel the urge rising in my chest as the front of my body felt the warmth of him through the thin material of my dress. My hands were roaming all over his face and neck as we kissed. I felt a strange sensation along my left side accompanied by a subdued “zzzzzzzip” shortly before one of his large hands found its way inside the material. I responded to the touch of his hand upon my flesh with a gentle gasp in his ear, to let him know that I approved of what he was doing.

Oh, now the cocky bastard was smiling… I could feel his cheeks tense and mouth sharpen as we kissed. I responded by reaching up and nibbling the lobe of his ear. Oh yes, the moment was building exactly as I’d wanted and exactly as he’d described it on the telephone. I was gently relieved of my burgundy dress, which fell to the floor like a discarded veil. With a swift motion, he spun round, picked me up and sat me on the kitchen worktop as I grasped his shirt buttons and ripped them open (actually, I say “ripped”… in truth no-one likes a shredded shirt. I should have said “undone with due reverential haste. Doesn’t quite work though does it?). His right hand unclipped my black lacy bra which was gently deposited next to my dress. His mouth was all over my neck and breasts, I could feel my heartbeat surge as I looked down upon his head, stroking his hair.

I didn’t care that the Venetian blind was still open and that my now naked back was silhouetted against the kitchen window for the neighbours to see. It was all about the moment, his mouth and me and the things he was doing to me. I lifted my bottom off the worktop as my pants were removed, I could smell the food beginning to burn slightly, but frankly did not care a damn unless the house burned down.

I undid the button and zip of his trousers, pulled him closer and soon had my legs wrapped tightly round his waist, being in complete control, juggling between passive response to him encouraging him further and a flex of thigh muscles to slow him down.

Far better to enjoy this to its full potential than let uncontrolled ardour render it all too brief. His hands were all over my body as his hips rocked back and forth, as my legs allowed him just enough momentum to quicken the pace slightly, but not enough to let him get too carried away. I continued to nibble his earlobe and run the nail of my index finger from the top of his neck and all the way down his spine, I felt his muscular back shiver under my touch. Oh yes! Oh yes!

As sex, this was exactly as billed, no broken promises or complaints to advertising standards here. Finally satisfied, we were panting like dogs, clinging to each other’s moist skin and struggling to form coherent sentences to one another.

He leaned forward and whispered in my ear.

“I love you…”

At that moment I looked inside my heart and beyond the physical gratification I actually felt very little.

I’m ashamed to say that I faked something far, far more significant than a mere orgasm....
(Thu 10th Jul 2008, 23:04, More)

» Thrown away: The stuff you loved and lost.

Throwing (and putting) out
"Gloria, you're able to do a late one for me next week, yeah?" asked cunt-of-a-boss in his usual rhetorical manner.

I'd been expecting this. I nodded and replied with "Yep, okay".

"Good. Well, those old files clogging up the filing room you keep moaning about need to be sorted and boxed before they're taken away for archiving."

I'd been bitching about the lack of space in the filing room for ages. We had stuff in there going back to 1993 for heavens sake, so a good clean out was long overdue. Cunt-of-a-boss made sure it was going to happen after office hours, as unpaid overtime. Now you see why he earns his nickname.

"Nigel has volunteered to help you out too. Can't leave you all on your own. Now where is that cup of tea I asked for fifteen minutes ago?"

I slipped away to make the tea, grinning to myself and saying "Yes!" under my breath. Why? Well Nigel is one of our site workers, tall, blond and very outdoorsy. Most of the girls in the office have a thing for him. Maybe I could capitalize on my unexpected good fortune? It would certainly make up for not getting any overtime pay.

Sure enough, the following Tuesday evening I found myself changing out of my office clothes into jeans and an old sweatshirt. Nigel walked into the staff room bearing two steaming mugs of tea.

"Hi Gloria, we can't get started without one of these first" he said, smiling broadly as he handed my pink cup over to me.

I couldn't help grinning back like a knock-kneed spotty teenage girl.

Being a site worker meant that Nigel worked outside digging holes, taking groundwater samples and driving about in one of the firm's Toyota pickup trucks, so it was no surprise to see him in his usual rugged ensemble of Timberland boots, jeans and a checked shirt. He was confident in his bearing, spoke with an authoritative voice and was something of a gentleman, holding the door open for me on a number of occasions.

I however looked like shit. I like to make an effort at work, so I'll always wear nice shoes and dress smartly. I felt like a bag lady, all frumpy with my hair tied up and wearing trainers instead of the black heels I normally wore.

We trudged up the stairs and along the corridor to the "filing room", which was actually a loading bay, hence it was very dusty and a repository for all kinds of crap. Over in the corner stood a broken copier next to a stack of old PC base units. The daylight was beginning to fade, so Nigel switched on the neon lights which flickered into life with an audible "ping... ping".

He rolled up his sleeves and we got started packing the loosely bound files into stiff boxes, scrawling a number on the side and scribbling a brief itinerary of the contents.

Or at least that's what Nigel did. I found myself staring at his forearms, tanned with year round exposure to sunlight with their prominent veins and defined muscles. A day's growth of stubble on his broadly grinning face didn't go amiss either... I wished at that point that I wasn't dressed like a total tramp.

An hour later, I was covered in dust, dismembered spiders, fragments of paper and general filth. My knees were dusty and my pink sweatshirt had ingrained dirt where I'd wiped my hands. Lord knows what I had in my hair, I must have looked a far cry from the efficient office girl I normally present myself as at work. The only thing that helped pass the time was the good humoured banter between Nigel and I. It almost made me forget about the state I must have looked.

I walked over to the old copier and picked up some frayed files on the shelf nearby. I could have leapt out of my skin at that point because I became aware of a presence behind me. I nervously looked round to see that it was Nigel, who seemed to be leering.

With mock indignation, I span on my heel and stood up straight. As he caught me with his eye, my will to make him squirm a little melted. All of a sudden, confident Gloria decided to go on holiday somewhere far, far away and instead timid Gloria had to deputize.

"I... uh... I must look a right state..." I felt like I was stammering. I should have been milking the indignation for all it was worth but instead I found myself being a passenger on a runaway train.

Sensing his cue, he walked up to me and placed his hands on my hips.

"You looked fine from where I was standing Gloria" he replied, his voice softening slightly.

I should have slapped him right there. But I didn't. Instead, I reached out and touched his arm, which felt firm and strong in my hand. I reached out further and felt him pulling me toward him.

"I can't help it Gloria. I've had my eye on you for a while" he whispered, his mouth now level with my ear. The bastard.

He stooped slightly to kiss me. I cupped the sides of his face and pulled him toward me, almost crushing my nose against him in my haste. I caught gasping breaths while kissing him, I could taste the faint flavour of tea in his breath as I hungrily devoured.

Nigel's hands were wandering all over my butt, caressing and gently clenching. I took it as my prompt to return the favour, feeling his firm butt in my hands..... I wondered what the other girls in the office would think now?

We were both dusty, sweaty and caring not a bit. I'd recovered some of my composure and was smiling mockingly as I kissed him. My outward confidence belied the fact that my heart was pounding at a worrying rate in my chest.

"You have a very fine arse. I wanted to sink my teeth into it a minute ago" he whispered

"Charming" I answered

His dusty hands were now running through my tangled hair, I felt the hair band keeping my fringe from my face get pulled away from my head and then gently tucked in the back pocket of my jeans. My hair was now free and Nigel seemed to delight in running his fingers through it as we kissed.

Confident Gloria was now back in charge. I pressed myself right up against him with the length of my body. He pushed me backwards, I nearly overbalanced but he put a strong arm around my back to steady me. Off balance, he walked me backwards a couple of paces until I was leaning against the old copier. I pushed myself up so that my backside was sat on the lid.

Crunch!

The glass underneath the lid had shattered, but that didn't slow us down. He lifted at the front of my sweat and gently caressed my breasts, which were at this point begging to be stroked. I unbuttoned the front of his shirt and gently ran my fingernails all the way down his chest and torso until they reached his belt buckle. I could feel him shiver in response.

My bra was now unclipped and my sweatshirt was being tugged over my head.

"I like what I see!" said Nigel gleefully, before he started to kiss my breasts.

I had no idea that the evening was going to turn out quite like this, but I wasn't complaining.

Nigel's head started to move lower and lower until he lifted my left leg up and removed my trainer and gently tugged down my jeans, leaving them hanging uselessly from my other calf.

I had hold of fistfuls of his hair as he moved lower and lower, until I couldn't hold back an involuntary gasp as his tongue ran down the fabric of my thong. Despite me being all dusty and sweaty, he pulled the material aside and let out a lingering "Mmmmmmmmm....." as his tongue started to reach places hitherto explored only in the depths of my imagination.

I lay back, biting my lip and savouring the whole experience, feeling slightly guilty that I was doing absolutely nothing in return. My God it was good, he sure as hell knew what he was doing and appeared to be enjoying himself almost as much as I was, if the mumblings of approval from him as he took breaths were anything to go by.

By this point I simply had to have him or die trying. I pushed him back firmly, but undid his belt and pushed his jeans and pants down. In a moment, he was inside me and he lifted my legs up so that they were resting on his shoulders.

I have absolutely no idea why no-one called the Police to investigate the noise. They worked late at the office next door and there's no way that anyone walking out to their car could have missed the noise I was making. Having said that, I couldn't have cared though if the whole of the bloody British Army had come bursting into the office to my rescue.

Afterward, we made sure that we had the rest of the boxing up completed, giggling to each other like a couple of mischievous kids as we tidied up the remaining paperwork before we finished up and locked the office. I gave Nigel one last lingering kiss before we went our separate ways that evening. All the time on the journey home I kept grinning to myself.

In fact I was still grinning bashfully the next morning when cunt-of-a-boss called me into his office.

"Now Gloria, well done for sorting out all that filing the other night. Seems like Nigel and you certainly did a thorough job together. Now exactly how did you manage to damage the photocopier again?"
(Tue 19th Aug 2008, 16:09, More)