The phone rang. Jenny waited, hoping it didn't mean He was going to be late.
Hello, my pet. There's been a change of plans. I had to go to the office to meet with a client—and he's made a lot of last-minute changes, which means that I have to stay here for awhile. So I want you to come down here to my office so I can amuse myself with you while I work.
Tell the receptionist you're my new assistant—she'll tell you where to find me. Dress appropriately. See you soon...
Darn, Jenny thought. She'd been looking forward to having Him come over. She'd put on her gauzy "l'il girl" party dress and petticoats, and He had promised to play Wicked Uncle Ernie with her. Darn, darn, darn!
Well, it would just have to wait until next time. She hurried into her bedroom to change...but into what, she wondered. She'd never been to His office—what would be 'appropriate' dress for His assistant?
She decided to play it safe and go with executive/conservative. He liked that sometimes. She carefully removed her party dress and petticoats, looking wistfully at them before putting them away in the closet and taking out one of her 'office' role-playing outfits. It was a somewhat dowdy gray herringbone skirt-and-jacket set that she wore with a white or pinstripe blouse, a brooch or bow, and low heels. And glasses, sometimes.
The most important question was what to wear underneath. Sexy or deliberately boring?
She looked down at herself. She hadn't gotten around to putting on her shoes and socks when He'd called, so now she was wearing only a pair of white cotton panties with little pictures of Tweety Bird all over them.
Hmm... That might be an interesting surprise for Him, she thought, beginning to grow excited. Especially with a lacy black garter-belt and stockings—yes!
She began to rummage quickly through her lingerie drawer.
Jenny looked around timidly as she stepped out of the elevator. She'd had no trouble finding the office—it was in one of the tallest and best-known structures in the city, and the company He worked for occupied an entire floor of it. She knew He didn't go there much, preferring to work at home and communicate by email and teleconferencing. But sometimes, like today, he had to put in a personal appearance—and He was important enough to have His own office kept on stand-by for Him.
As Jenny approached the receptionist's desk she realized she'd overdone it with her choice of clothing—everyone she saw was stylishly casual. Jenny caught the receptionist's somewhat dismissive glance at her and wished she had at least left her hair down instead of clipping it up into a somewhat fierce-looking bun behind her head. He hadn't told her to do that—which might displease Him—but she had thought at the time that it went with the role she was to play. Oh well, she thought, too late now.
The receptionist told Jenny where to find His office, and she hurried through the maze of halls and cubicles until she found the door with His name on it. She raised her hand to knock, then hesitated when she heard His voice. If he was with a client or a co-worker she didn't want to interrupt. She leaned closer to the door and heard a second voice...but it was tinny, metallic-sounding. Someone on a speakerphone, she thought, that should be all right.
She knocked lightly and heard Him say, "Hang on a second, Bob..." then call, "Come in!" She turned the knob and entered His office. It was fair-sized—not much bigger than the living room in her small apartment—and almost entirely taken up by a huge desk. On top of the desk were a number of different computer components, dominated by a huge flat-screen monitor. She couldn't even see Him behind it until He stood up to see who was at the door.
When He saw her He stopped for a second, taking in and evaluating her appearance. Jenny held her breath when His gaze paused on her 'executive' hairstyle...then let it out again when He gave her a quick nod and gestured for her to come and stand beside him. She hurried around the desk and stood at his right as He seated Himself again. In His business clothes He looked so different from what she was used to - so much more refined than the somewhat thuggish, black-clad appearance he presented when He came to her apartment.
He was sitting in one of those fancy executive swivel-chairs and facing the monitor, which immediately drew her attention. It was filled with a number of smaller windows—charts, graphs, documents-and she had no idea what any of them meant, but they were colorful to look at. Then her gaze was snagged by two even smaller windows because they were moving slightly, and she was a little startled to see that in one of them was a picture of Him...and it was duplicating His every movement and gesture from the shoulders up.
She just had time to notice the small camera mounted on the side of the monitor and realize that He was video-conferencing with someone when He said, "Bob, this is Jenny, my assistant. Jenny, this is Bob Barnstable, who's the liaison with the client I met with today," and reached out to swivel the camera up towards her face. She blinked as she saw herself appear on the monitor, but managed to smile and say hello to the harassed-looking man in the other window.
Bob acknowledged her presence with a nod and a distracted "Nice to meet you," then, obviously returning to the discussion she'd interrupted, continued, "Now, if we go with these new parameters, we're going to have to completely re-think the marketing strategy for the third quarter, right?"
The camera swung away from her and back to Him. "Not necessarily," He replied. "Hang on just one more sec." He turned to look at Jenny. "Jenny, why don't you take a look at these reports and see if you can give me a quick summary, all right?"
He was pointing to a completely vacant area of his desk, right in front of where she was standing. Jenny stared back at him, utterly bewildered. "The print is kind of tiny," He continued, taking her by the elbow and pulling her down toward the desk, "Don't strain your eyes."
By now He had her hand and elbow flat on the desk, and Jenny suddenly understood that He was instructing her to take a specific pose—one with which she was extremely familiar. He had already turned His attention back to Bob, and was saying, "Okay, look, if you roll out the print ads as scheduled but redistribute the other media buys..." But Jenny was no longer listening. She quickly placed her other arm on the desk in the same position—bending the upper half of her body nearly horizontal to do so—and stood with her legs apart and her behind in the air.
By turning her head slightly she could see Him—He was still talking to Bob, but she saw Him glance quickly at His image on the screen and then over at her, and she immediately understood that He was checking exactly how wide an area the camera covered.
And when she felt his warm, dry fingers brush casually against the back of her nylon-covered knee she knew why He had done so...and shuddered deliciously.
There He was, chatting away about seasonal inventory cycles and other arcane mysteries with Bob, while just out of camera range His hand was now under her skirt and sliding sensuously up the back of her thigh. It was almost as if He were fondling her while another man was in the room with them, she thought—and had to suppress a groan of arousal.
He stroked her with just the lightest touch of His fingertips—first the back, then the inside of her thigh, just high enough to give her a quivering sensation between her legs and cause her to breathe a little harder. She felt Him tracing the top of her stocking, then toying idly with one of the straps of her garter belt—sliding a finger under it, stretching and loosening it, occasionally pulling it out and letting it snap against her thigh hard enough to make her skin tingle there, making her gasp and wonder if the snap had been audible at the other end of the line. She smiled to herself as she realized that she hoped it was.
She heard Him saying, "...But you've got to move on this before the competition does. You can't afford to fall behind,"—just as she felt His hand moving up onto her behind. Ohhhh...god, His palm felt so hot through her cotton panties! She loved the way He took possession of her, stroking and squeezing first one cheek then the other as if they belonged to Him. Which they do, she thought, her mouth falling open, panting, as He drew a finger slowly but firmly down between her cheeks and then just as slowly back up again.
She felt a fingertip, then several, slip under the elastic of her panties. Was He going to pull them down? Oh god, she hoped so! But no, He was pulling them up—he had the elastic wrapped around his fingers—and she felt the fabric of her panties crawling across her behind to bunch between her cheeks as He pulled. Then the fabric was pulled even tighter and she started to feel the pressure between her legs. Ohhh, between her lips! Tighter!...then gradually looser...then tighter, over and over in a slowly increasing rhythm. Oh god, she was getting so wet! She turned her head away and lay it on the table for fear that her gasps would be heard.
Then suddenly His hand was gone, and she heard Him saying, "That's not what we heard from the focus-groups. Jenny, would you read the first few quotes to Bob?"
Out of pure instinct Jenny flung herself upright and turned, just in time to grasp the piece of paper He was handing to her. He gave her a small, wicked smile as He swiveled the camera and turned it up towards her face. She tried to slow her breathing as saw herself appear on the screen, and hoped Bob wouldn't be able to see the sheen of perspiration on her face.
She faced the camera and began to read. "There was a consensus among Groups A and B that the package-design was insufficiently eye-catching, and possibly inappropriate for the target age-group..." She continued to read even though she had no idea what she was reading or why He was having her read it.
Not at first, anyway. She was focussing so hard on making sense out of the words on the page that she had no attention to spare for anything else. She might have noticed out of the corner of her eye that He was rolling His chair back from the desk, but once He was out of sight she forgot about Him. She was concentrating much too hard to notice a little thing like a button being undone or a zipper being stealthily lowered...
...Until, right in the middle of a sentence, her skirt suddenly fell around her ankles.
She gasped out loud, started to look down—then caught herself and faked a small coughing fit. She apologized to Bob and tried to continue reading. She managed a couple of paragraphs more but between the shock of losing her skirt and constantly checking the monitor to reassure herself that Bob wasn't getting an eyeful of her black garter-belt and Tweety Bird panties, her concentration was shot.
He took pity on her then, scooting back into his accustomed place beside her and saying, as He swiveled the camera—carefully—back to Himself, "Thanks, Jenny. Well, you get the idea, Bob. The graphics people are going to have to come up with something else." And continued on in that vein as if nothing had happened.
He gave her a moment to recover, then, still deep in conversation with Bob, reached out with one hand to circle her wrist and tug her downwards. She let the paper she'd been holding fall to the floor, then knelt upright beside him—out of camera range but very conscious of the fact that her skirt was still tangled around her feet and ankles.
For a while He simply caressed her face while He continued to speak and listen, absently smoothing the hair at her temple, then tracing her ear with His fingertip, then doing the same with her mouth. She opened for Him and He gave her two fingers to suck. She felt herself becoming aroused all over again. Mmmm...kneeling at His side, skirt around her ankles, suckling his fingers, knowing all the while that just the slightest movement of the camera would reveal her to be not His assistant at all...but His devoted slave and slut.
Oh god, and the door's not locked either, she thought suddenly. Anyone could just walk in and... She allowed herself a small shudder, glad that she was hidden behind His desk.
He slowly withdrew His fingers from her mouth and reached up to gently run His thumb across her temple again before continuing on to massage the back of her neck with His fingers. It felt wonderful, she had been so tense before...but what was He doing now?
She felt her jacket being loosened and pushed from first one shoulder, then the other. She held her arms slightly away from her sides and let Him tug the jacket downward, one side at a time, until it fell onto the backs of her legs. She remained perfectly still as He undid and removed the bow at her neck, and then slowly—and with as much ease as if he were actually looking at her instead of the screen, and as if He were using both hands instead of just one—began to undo the buttons of her pleated white blouse. To reach the bottom buttons He had to lean ever so slightly out of his chair—but not enough to be noticeable, she thought. She pulled her shoulders back and raised her hands behind her head, offering Him her breasts as He pulled her blouse open, one side at a time, to reveal the lacy black camisole underneath.
She wished He was free to look at her, to appreciate how carefully she had costumed herself for His pleasure, but there was something incredibly erotic about knowing that, even though He was looking at the screen, He was 'seeing' her with his fingertips. It was like being ravished by a blind man.
He fondled and caressed her breasts through the fabric of her camisole for a long time, finding each nipple and gently pinching it erect between thumb and forefinger. Jenny concentrated on breathing through her nose so as not to make too much noise.
But it was hard to stay calm when His hand was lifting her camisole, slowly, higher and higher, until her breasts were completely exposed. Harder still when He left the camisole bunched up over her breasts and sought her mouth again with His forefinger—and, when His finger was well-moistened, began to trace the aureoles of her breasts, first one then the other, over and over, leaving them slick and shiny...and her nipples feeling as if they were about to burst.
Jenny felt as though she was snorting like a horse, so loud did her breath sound to her. But she didn't dare lower her hands to cover her face without permission, so she concentrated on Him—staring at His profile as He continued to talk business, as cool and focussed as if it were someone else's hand fondling the breasts of the half-naked woman kneeling beside him. But the bulge in his pants, quite visible from where she knelt, made it obvious that He was aware of her. She ached to unzip Him then and there and take Him into her mouth.
But now He was fumbling in His desk drawer with His free hand, trying to find something, apparently, without looking away from the screen. What was it, she wondered—something for work or something...for her?
She quickly found out. He found what He was looking for and silently slid the drawer shut. He took his right hand away from her and did something to whatever it was in His other hand, all without glancing down. Then He extended His right hand towards her and she saw something shiny...
...Just as it was clamped onto her right nipple. Ow! This time she did gasp aloud and looked down. A paper clip - one of the large, heavy ones. And here came a second one...Ooo! She hissed through her teeth. Oh god, it was torture...it was agony...it was...wonderful! It was as if He were somehow holding both her nipples between His front teeth! Ahhh!
He played with the clips for a while, tugging and twisting them gently with his free hand or flicking them with His middle finger, making her close her eyes and grit her teeth so as not to cry out. But then He was tapping her on the shoulder and, when she opened her eyes, indicating with His open palm that she was to stand.
She did so, a little shakily, hands still locked behind her head, her jacket falling to the floor behind her. She stepped out of her skirt as she was positioned to stand with her back to the desk...then to sit...and then to lie back on it. The desk was big enough so that she was able to lie with her head at the far edge and her hips at the near one, her feet on the floor. At the silent urging of His hand on her thigh she obediently spread her legs apart for Him, not daring to wonder what was going to happen next.
But even if she had she would never have guessed.
He ignored her for a moment and she lay there, staring up at the acoustic tiles in the ceiling. The aching in her nipples had subsided a little, although they were still quite erect in their clips. She noticed a cool feeling between her legs and wished He would look over to see how wet He had made her panties with His attentions. She wanted Him to stroke her there and get them even wetter...
She heard Him saying, "Before the presentation goes to corporate we need to adjust the charts to the new parameters. Let's start with the distribution schedule..." and her mind drifted away. She wondered nervously how He could be so sure that no one was going to walk into His office and find her lying on his desk, blouse open, paper clips glinting on the nipples of her naked breasts, and from the waist down clothed only in gray shoes and black stockings, a garter belt and silly cotton panties. (Silly cotton panties with a large wet spot between her spread legs, she reminded herself.) He probably wasn't sure, she told herself—and He probably liked it that way.
He probably thought she did, too—And He's probably right, she thought; humiliation, or at least the potential for it, had always aroused her. Was arousing her now, she realized, as she pictured it in her mind. She imagined Bob suddenly materializing in the office. His shock at seeing her like that. Imagined being ordered to kneel and beg Bob's forgiveness for being such a slut. Being made to...
Something made of plastic was placed on her abdomen.
Startled, she raised her head to look: He had placed the mouse from His computer there and was moving it around and clicking it as He said, "The pie-chart is completely changed. See, right now the Receivables are thirty-seven per cent and with the new schedule you won't reach that until..." Running the smooth plastic over her stomach—up, down, side-to-side, pointing and clicking—paying no attention to her as He worked.
But somehow the mouse kept moving lower...now it was bumping over the elastic of her panties, then back onto her stomach, then down again...now it seemed to be drawing slow circles on the cotton fabric...now she could feel it tickling the pubic hair underneath as He drew it back and forth, back and forth...
It was weirdly sexy, as if He were teasing her with a small plastic dildo. She had to restrain herself from raising her hips to meet it. Then He said, "...And you've got to rearrange the bullet-points. Look, you've got too many of the soft ones towards the end—let's move them up."
And with that He lifted the mouse and planted it firmly between her legs...rolled it slowly upward...and clicked it, right over her clitoris—sending an electric thrill through her loins. Then He did it again...and then over and over again, as he rearranged the chart on the screen in front of Him.
Jenny was trying desperately not to whimper or moan, even as each successive roll and click of the mouse made her want to writhe on the desk and beg out loud for release. She suddenly thought: How nice of Him, a mouse for my pussy—and had to bite down hard on her lower lip to keep from bursting into hysterical giggles...
Just as a knock came on the office door.
Almost as if they had rehearsed it, Jenny slid off the desk and onto her knees, then onto all fours, as He removed the mouse and said to Bob, "Hang on a sec. Someone at the door," and stood—pushing his chair back far enough so that Jenny, grabbing at her clothes, could scuttle under His desk—just as He called, "Come in."
Ta-da, Jenny thought, covering her mouth with both hands to muffle herself as she gasped for breath. Now, for my next trick...
Through the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears she heard Him say, "Hi Darren, be with you in a minute."
She didn't have time to think about the implications of that remark because by then He had sat down again and was pulling Himself right towards her. Fortunately the desk was roomy enough underneath so that Jenny could simply turn sideways without getting His knees in her ribs. Then she heard Him continue, "Bob? I think I've loaded you up enough for tonight, right?" There was an inaudible reply, then: "Okay, yeah, we'll pick up where we left off first thing tomorrow. All right. Good night." This was followed by an electronic beep from the computer as the connection was severed.
Out of the frying pan, Jenny thought, as she heard Him saying, "Darren—so what's up?"
Darren, it seemed, was a co-worker and desperately in need of help on some other project. He launched into a litany of woes and roadblocks, but didn't get very far. "Yes, I was on that project," Jenny heard above her. "But only for a few days, then I got yanked into this McShane thing. So I don't think I can be much help to you, and frankly, I've got way too much on my plate as it is."
Never mind what's on His plate, thought Jenny, grimly. You should see what He's got under His desk.
But Darren continued to plead his case until Jenny wanted to lean down to the gap at the bottom of the desk and yell at him to go away and leave them alone. Then finally, from above her she heard, "All right. Give me a quick summary—I can't promise anything, but I'll take some notes and we'll see if anything pops into my head."
Great—I'm going to spend the night under this desk, thought Jenny, as Darren stumblingly began to describe the current state of the project. She was so busy fuming that for a moment she didn't see His hand beneath the desk. He was waving a scrap of paper at her from between his knees. She thought, Taking notes, huh? —as she crawled forward and took it.
There wasn't a lot of light beneath His desk, but she was able to read his hastily scrawled words: Turn around and put your head down.
Ohhhhh... Even with Darren in the room He wanted to...oh god.
Moving as quietly as she could, Jenny turned herself around and, not wanting to be any more uncomfortable than necessary, struggled out of her blouse—but left her camisole bunched up over her breasts and the clips on her nipples, knowing that was what He would want.
Then, looking over her shoulder (and wishing she had a rear-view mirror) she backed up between His legs, an inch at a time, being careful not to accidentally kick His chair or make any noise. It was one thing to fantasize about being discovered like this, she thought, but at the moment she certainly had no desire for it to happen.
Still, she moved as close to Him as His position would allow, stopping only when her feet were under His chair before lowering her head and resting it on her crossed arms. Judging by what she could see over her shoulder, not only her legs but also a good portion of her hips were exposed as well. If this Darren character should come around the desk for any reason...
Well, there was nothing to be done about it—especially now when she felt His fingertip under the elastic of her panties, sliding slowly back and forth, teasing her.
Or was He just teasing her? No—or at least not the way she had thought at first—because with each pass of His fingertip her panties were slipping slowly downward. Further...further...until suddenly they fell down around her knees.
But by then she was so aroused that she no longer cared. Let Darren come and watch, she thought. Let him see what a good plaything I am for my Master!
Nevertheless, she raised a hand to cover her mouth when she felt His hand insinuating itself between her thighs. She spread her legs for Him as much as the panties around her knees would allow. And when she felt His middle finger gently separating her lips and slowly but persistently make its way inside her she was glad all over again that she had covered her mouth. He penetrated her with His finger until she felt His knuckles against her behind, then just as slowly...He withdrew it. Then slid it all the way in again...then out, over and over again, the movement of His finger making moist little squishy noises which were probably inaudible anywhere else but which seemed to reverberate in the small space in which Jenny knelt. A space which seemed to be growing warmer by the second, she noticed—her make-up was beginning to run.
She shuddered as she felt His finger, now wet with her juices, being drawn slowly up between her cheeks...once, twice, three times. Then easing its way back inside her, while...oh god, His thumb then began pressing against her rear passage. Rubbing gently...making bigger, then smaller circles. Pressing inward...pressing, then suddenly—Ah!—inside her!
Jenny bit down on her knuckle to keep from crying out. And kept biting on it as she felt His hand begin a slow rocking motion, His middle finger sliding out as His thumb probed inward; thumb slowly withdrawing as the middle finger re-entered. Finger, then thumb. Finger, thumb, finger, thumb, finger-thumb-finger-thumb-finger-thumb—
Oh god, what was He doing to her? Had He forgotten how loud she was when she came? How she thrashed around? Did He really not care what anybody thought? Oh god, it was starting to...she couldn't hold back anymore...Ah!...AH!...She was going to...
Then His hand was suddenly gone—leaving her feeling like one of those cartoon characters who run several steps off of a cliff before realizing there's nothing underneath them. Barely able to breathe, she exerted every atom of her will and forced her body to relax. Oh Master, she thought, You know me far too well!
She hadn't even managed to calm herself to the point of breathing normally when she felt Him tapping on her hip, and when she was able to turn herself around she saw another piece of paper in His hand.
Stroke me with your panties, it read.
Above her, there was a moment of silence...then His voice, saying, "All right. Your number one problem, as near as I can tell, is in the basic concept. You should probably talk with..." It went on, but Jenny was busy, arms outstretched behind her, trying to remove her panties as quietly as possible. All right, she thought, as if speaking out loud, You asked for it.
Finally managing to detach her panties from where they had gotten caught on the heel of her shoe, she dropped them to the floor in front of her, then reached up with both hands and began to unzip Him—working as slowly and deliberately as if she were opening a safe full of nitroglycerin so that there wouldn't be the slightest noise.
When at last she had the zipper down as far as she could get it to go, she began the equally delicate job of bringing His cock out into the open. She was amazed to hear Him continue speaking, calmly and incisively—just as if He didn't have a mostly naked woman under His desk, holding His cock in her hand. When it was free and standing fully erect in front of her face she reached into His pants to gently scoop up his balls and bring them out as well—she wanted to give Him the Full Treatment.
She drew her panties over her hand, with the fabric from the seat—the only part still dry—over her palm and fingers. Then she reached out and began by just lightly touching His balls with her fingertips, stroking and making little circles, moving from one to the other and back again. She noticed that although He continued to speak normally while she did this He had begun to say "Ummm..." more often—and to her it sounded a lot like "MMMmmmm"—so she knew she was having an effect.
She began to increase the pressure, now massaging His balls with the palm of her hand while her fingers reached behind them to stroke His scrotum, the warm cotton fabric of her panties sliding smoothly over His skin.
There was a sudden intake of breath above her and she heard Darren asking, "You all right?"
"Uh—yeah. Just swallowed wrong, I guess," was the reply.
Jenny grinned to herself. Sorry, just following orders, Master. You know how I love to follow orders...
She moved her hand up to the shaft itself, wrapping her panties and then her fingers around it and began stroking slowly up and down, raising her other hand to continue massaging His balls with the loose fabric that hung below her fist.
She heard Him gasp and say, "Ohhh!" She stopped for a moment, then heard Him slap His forehead and continue, "Uh, I just remembered something else I have to do for the McShane project. So, uh, we need to wrap it up here pretty quickly, okay?"
Jenny raised her eyebrows. Did you say, 'Wrap it up', Master? I live to obey...
She draped her panties over His entire cock. Then, while continuing to massage Him below with her left hand, moved her right hand up the shaft to the head, wrapping it in her fist and giving it short, squeezing up-and-down strokes with the fabric.
Darren was thanking Him for His time, saying, "Well, don't work too late, man, you'll make yourself sick—you're looking a little frazzled, you know? This job can really squeeze you dry if you let it."
You don't know the half of it, Jenny answered in her mind, rubbing the ball of her thumb across the opening in the tip of His cock in time with her strokes. She heard Him mumble something in a distracted tone of voice, concluding with a farewell of some sort—then Darren replying in kind, his voice fading as he walked out of the office.
The moment the door was closed He reached under the desk, grabbed Jenny by the wrists and dragged her out so quickly that her panties were left hanging from His shaft, looking like a flag on a windless day.
He took them off and stuffed them into her mouth.
Then He drew her up to her feet, threw her onto the desk and plunged into her, holding her wrists above her head with both hands while He ravaged her. Jenny had never seen Him so completely lose control of Himself, and she felt a certain pride in her accomplishment. Or at least she would have, had there been room in her awareness for anything other than the tidal wave of pleasure which seemed to be lifting them both off of the desk and carrying them helplessly away as she met Him thrust for thrust...
She was thankful for the panties in her mouth, as she was beginning to squeal—and felt as if she would soon begin to scream. Unable to speak, she stared into His eyes and begged, wordlessly: Please, Master, may I? Oh please, please... let your poor slave come!
At last she saw it in His eyes (Yes, my love...NOW!) just as they went completely unfocussed and closed, and His mouth dropped open and she felt Him flooding into her.
She let go then—surrendering to an orgasm that rooted her feet to the floor and snapped her body upward into a shuddering arch that left only her shoulders on the desk, even with His weight on top of her. She screamed through the panties in her mouth as electricity seemed to bolt upward through her spine and burst through the top of her head, again and again...
The next thing she knew she was being lifted gently upward into a sitting position. The paper clips had been removed from her nipples; the panties were gone from her mouth and a bottle of water was being held to her lips. She drank greedily before opening her eyes and smiling up into His face, so close to hers. For a long while neither of them felt the need to say anything—but their eyes spoke volumes to each other.
He helped her to clean up and dress, then accompanied her out of the office, out of the building and to the parking garage where her car was. He held her in His arms for a long time and she whispered in his ear how much she loved everything they did together.
He pulled back to look into her eyes and smile. "You're my good girl, He said. "And next time, I promise, Little Jenny will get a visit from Uncle Ernie."
He kissed her good night. Then He crouched down, lifted her skirt and kissed her quickly through her still-wet panties, touching her briefly with His tongue. Then He stood, dropping her skirt back into place, and laid His hand alongside her cheek for a moment, looking at her—then turned and walked away.
Jenny drove home, exhausted but smiling and humming along with the music on her CD player...and already beginning to imagine their next meeting.