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Slowly bringing my fingertips to caress my throat, I feel warm, almost feverish. I let my head fall backward, enjoying my own soothing touch against my skin. Instinctually, I want to explore further, but I stop myself.

I roll my chair back and  bend over to open the bottom desk drawer, pulling out my duffel bag, placing it on top of my desk. This untimely diversion is not going to derail my plans to visit the gym tonight.  I carefully arrange my exercise gear, checking for clean socks and a towel.

Stepping over to the window where the streaming light holds me in silhouette, I slowly pull my camisole top  over my head, revealing my lacy white balconette bra I bought as a matching set. I picture the panties now, discarded, lying damp on the dark blue carpet of his office. I register a throb of excitement, squeezing my thighs tightly together,  recalling the look of shock and urgent desire in his eyes.

I wonder what he thinks of me now…even more bold in my exhibitionism. Turning my back to the door, I reach around  and play my fingers delicately along the clasp of my bra, unfastening ever so slowly. Cupping my hands against my chest, I press my breasts together and up as they spill over my fingers letting the straps fall loosely down my shoulders.

Turning my profile toward the light, I dart a quick sideways look toward the door. The shadow remains. Immobile.  I release the thin fabric and allow the full, lush beauty of my body to be seen. Exposed to the unfamiliar climate of the room I feel a bit lightheaded, and vulnerable, being I am almost naked. There’s no turning back now.

I urge my zipper down and my little skirt falls to the floor. I step out and stand there for a moment, eyes directed at the dark form–craving contact. I smile and wink, playfully. Now, there is nothing between us  except a plate of glass keeping him at bay. I am on fire at the thought of his hunger matching my own.  I suddenly wonder if anyone else can see me behind the glass.

I turn my back again toward the door. Wearing nothing but my stilettos now, I drape my upper body across the top of my desk, shoving the duffel bag onto the floor and mashing my breasts against the cool lacquered surface. This lewd invitation–with my legs spread wide open–the frank display of my most intimate parts, engorged and waiting, makes me feel primal. The notion overwhelms me and I can’t resist.

My legs tremble as I slide a hand between thighs slick with wet. Closing my eyes, I begin to moan urgently and thrust my hips against the desk, teetering on my tiptoes. Losing myself in  thrilling momentum,  I don’t hear the sound of the key turning in the lock.

To be continued…

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