The following is based on a true story – the events described here actually happened to two people I loved very much and who allowed their stories to be recorded. Their identities have been changed to protect their privacy.
This work is available free of charge to anyone who might enjoy it, although it is only fair that proper credit be given to the author. Please do not read this article if you do not wish to read adult content. Otherwise, enjoy.
***
I groaned softly, sat back at my desk, and reached out to silently massage one of my calves.
“Jessica, has the photocopier been re-run several times?” my boss asked me sympathetically on my way to my third cup of coffee.
I sighed deeply and was about to answer, but she had already stepped back from the office door and sat down to drink coffee, the door almost closed. I shook my head and shifted the massager to my aching legs. It’s certainly not my fault that they’ve set up the photocopier on the other side of the floor – and it’s not my fault that Diane needs to make photocopies a hundred times a day.
I had been Diane’s assistant for less than a year and this was my fifth attempt to find a steady job in the field. My first boss was a friendly old man, but his second heart attack forced him to retire, and there were no other jobs available that required more incentive than I was willing to do. My second boss tried to convince me that the assistant would always work until 3 a.m. There was nothing in my life they could interfere with, anyway.’ However, if I wanted to work 18 hours a day, 7 days a week, I could go to law school – that way I wouldn’t have to work as an associate with little pay and no benefits. The third and fourth jobs…well, the less said about them the better.
Then I came to Elsing Associates, a small law firm run by Diane Elsing and her partners, who took over the old man’s practice. He was retiring but clearly didn’t like his wife very much – so a young, ambitious lawyer who could take over his practice without making him do too much work was a perfect fit.
Diane also has two paralegals who work for her, but I rarely see them. They worked on the second floor of an office building where the law firm had offices, and we shared them with two other such law firms, so I basically only knew them by the names on the envelopes in interoffice mail.
Diane Elsin earned a reputation as a trial lawyer in her late twenties and early thirties, and now in her forties she works primarily as a trial lawyer for large companies. Still, on the rare occasions when she actually stood trial, she was still quite imposing – tall, fit, blonde, long-legged, with cold blue eyes – the perfect image of a ruthless, blood-sucking lawyer.
I think she’s a really nice woman, quiet and private myself, but always calm and smiling. She’s one of the few lawyers I’ve met who doesn’t treat her assistants like slaves – and she’s not a fruitcake either. When she asks you to call her Diana, it’s not a condescending attitude. When she asks you to bring her coffee, it’s because she can’t bring herself coffee right now because she’s on a conference call or she’s a little late and has to go straight to a meeting.
Of course, by this point in my career with him, I hadn’t had the courage to tell him anything. I’m what you’d call the shy type. I’m skinny from head to toe, with short red hair, big green eyes, and a nose full of freckles that are still too much for a twenty-eight-year-old girl. The figure I work hard to shape only seems to attract the attention of married men. The fact that I hadn’t dated a guy since middle school didn’t help. I couldn’t even take advantage of that, because – for crying out loud – I’d known I was gay since I was sixteen, when I realized that my masturbatory fantasies hadn’t involved boys for a long time, and weren’t likely to any time soon. I hadn’t spent much time dating women and things were more or less settled. However, I was lucky – I went to college, my friends supported me, my mom was relieved that I had finally figured it out, and my dad’s response was simply advice: “Just remember, come on honey, a woman can be just as stupid as any man.” Thanks Dad, but it’s good advice.
Diane, on the other hand, was divorced, although I know very little about her life in that regard. I had heard of a law professor, but she had been divorced for years and certainly hadn’t talked to me about her love life. She’s one of those people you tell your life story to and then you realize she hasn’t said anything about herself.
My time working with her so far has been all about the types of interactions I just mentioned – basic pleasantries, small talk, etc. We had some great conversations over coffee and bagels, and she took me out to dinner a few times with the rest of the company to celebrate a particularly big client, so I hesitantly thought we could become a friend – or at least a friendly colleague.
“Jessica?”
When she called my name, I immediately looked up and stood — frown again because of the pain in my foot and ankle — to see what Diane wanted.
She lifted her head, the Bluetooth phone was at her ear and the desk was covered in papers. “Jess,” she said, muting her phone again, “I can’t find the copy of the contract they sent me last week.”
I nodded. “It’s filed, I’ll get it.” I walked to the corner of her office where her main files were stored, and quickly flipped through several drawers. This isn’t unusual – Diane is a very good lawyer, but she prefers to do everything electronically – via email or scans. Paper documents held her back, and she didn’t have the patience for them. So I keep the files myself so she doesn’t have to worry about keeping track of files she doesn’t like to deal with.
Looking back it’s funny – we never really discussed it, but I did it without thinking and he never questioned it. Looking back, maybe he should have told me something.
I took out the file she was looking for and placed it on the table.
“Yes,” Diane said over the phone, “I left them here.” She looked at me gratefully. “Yes, you mean – about the land agreement?” She looked at me and I nodded, opening the file and turning the pages she needed. Another thing I did without being asked.
I stayed there for the rest of the call, flipping through this page or that, trying to keep half of the conversation going – which I was pretty good at. Finally, Diane hung up and rolled her eyes.
“Stupid,” he mumbled. He shook his head and looked at the large crystal clock on the table. “I have a meeting in a few minutes – make sure I don’t interrupt, okay?”
“It’s okay,” I assured her, closed the file again, put it back in the drawer, and walked out of the office, closing the door behind me.
This is also very common. Several times a week clients – or potential clients – come in. Diane’s practice depends on these meetings – basically, they are sales pitches. So after a particularly nasty phone call she’s had recently, talking to some annoying mouthpiece somewhere, she’ll take a few minutes to relax and compose herself before the meeting so she can surprise them with the Elsin Legal Machine. In other words, make herself look so competent and ruthless that the client can’t imagine winning without her – and, more importantly, can’t imagine losing with her.
Trust me, it works – I’ve been to a few of these meetings. I wouldn’t be surprised if many of his clients don’t hire him just to make sure their competitors can’t hire him.
I returned to my desk and gratefully settled into my chair—a big, comfortable thing that swivels and reclines. Diane spared no expense on the office furniture, something I appreciate after working for years as an assistant on “ergonomic” chairs that made me feel like I was ninety years old when I went home at the end of the day.
The quiet time Diane spends before meetings is personal—I always put her phone calls on hold and block anyone who comes to visit her. Her office has no windows or doors, and she never talks about it, so I don’t know what she does to calm herself down during meetings.
No doubt I could probably guess it if I thought about it. A friend of mine from college became a surgeon – and according to her, it’s more common than most people think. Diane did what many surgeons, pilots, athletes, artists and other high-stress professionals do to relax when they really need stillness and relaxation – she let herself down. The surge of endorphins and other positive mood-affecting substances produced by orgasm is more effective than any man-made drug at keeping you calm and focused, and it’s cheaper, too.
So, this was the day when the inevitable finally happened. Most importantly, there was a problem with the lock on his office door that changed my life. I heard a slight click and noticed that his door was open an inch, as if the latch didn’t fit anymore. My desk was in the little corner of the floor just outside his door, so I noticed it immediately. Without thinking, I stood up and closed the door again, and by chance – I swear – I glanced through the two-inch gap in the open door.
My quiet, intensely private boss turned her chair to one side, leaned back, put one long leg on the desk and placed one hand under her skirt. Her head was tilted back, her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted. If it weren’t for the obvious movement of her hand between her legs – and her deadly grip on the arm of the chair with her other hand – I would have thought she was asleep.
Now, before anyone judges me prematurely, I did what any good assistant would do. I set a world record for the slowest and quietest door closing in human history, then returned to my desk, and sat there motionless, waiting to see if I woke up. If I didn’t keep my eyes open enough, they would pop out of my head when I sneezed, and anyone passing by would not notice anything strange had happened.
Two minutes later, Diane left the office for the meeting – looking a calm, confident lawyer from head to toe. Luckily for me, she didn’t look at me as she left – my eyes hadn’t returned to normal size yet. After thinking about it I realized that nothing had changed. She obviously didn’t see me, and no one else needed to know. I can pretend it didn’t happen. Okay, so I was naive.
The days of Diane’s meeting took on a completely different perspective for me. She would close the door and have some private time before that day’s meeting, and I suddenly found myself completely unable to concentrate on anything. I was careful not to think about what she was doing – if I thought about it, I imagined it, it certainly wouldn’t help.
Most of the time, I wasn’t even excited by the whole idea – most of the time, I was confused. I certainly never felt any particular attraction to Diane. Sure, I thought she was pretty, but given her heterosexual history and her general private attitude – and she was my boss – I never saw her through that particular lens. Slowly, over the next few weeks, I found excuses to think about it. I mean, like any single girl, I need to relax, and since I haven’t been in a relationship for a few years, if my focus is solely on the sex-related things that happen to me, I can certainly be forgiven for a while. When I’m taking care of myself (usually at the end of the day) if something pops into my mind, it’s natural because my mind has to look for a clear image to focus on. This made total sense to me and I decided not to feel bad about it.
I realized I was in trouble about two months after the accidental surveillance incident, when I realized I was sitting at my desk waiting for Diane to come out for a meeting and wondering how to manipulate the door handle to get information. It reappears. I kept staring at it, hoping the door would open and I would get a chance to look again. I told myself I only had to look at it one more time to satisfy my intense curiosity.
Finally, one day after Diane had left for a meeting, I went into her office to file some things and noticed something light-colored under her desk. Of course, like an idiot, I thought some papers had slipped off the desk and I knelt down to pick them up – only to find in my hand a pair of white lace panties. Still, that might not have been enough to kill me─but then a scent hits my nose. It’s a scent I haven’t experienced in a long time. I could smell Diane on those panties, and this sensation, combined with the image in my mind, made my breasts quiver more than I had felt in a long time.
The panties were half in my pocket before I realised that Diane was probably going to look for them later. I put them back under the table and slid back to my desk, wondering how long it would take to rid my nose of its soft, musky sweetness. That night I got the strongest, spiciest meal in a takeaway and inhaled so deeply I wondered if I was actually trying to flush my sinuses to the bone. Afterwards, I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind – and might have done so if it hadn’t been for our upstairs neighbour.
One day, Diane arranged a meeting with a big client – a big city company, and if we made the right first impression and completed the first task they gave us, this one set up could become a cash cow for our small company for several years. Diane had been stressed about this meeting for two weeks – and her temper was the angriest I had ever seen before. Her emails to the paralegals were becoming increasingly harsh and frustrating, and she wasn’t talking to anyone. Plus, on the day of the meeting where we expected to be hired (or not), our original office was remodeling their office. Saws, drills, hammers – you name it.
I’m sitting at my desk. The meeting ends in five minutes. Diane hadn’t left the office yet and I was worried. I didn’t put two and two together or anything – don’t worry, no one in this story will accuse me of being too perceptive – but I thought maybe she fell asleep… later. It’s happened to me a few times, so I know how easy it is to drift off after a much-needed orgasm.
I’ll never know what subconsciously I expected would happen, but before I could think about it, I stood up and knocked softly on his office door. No one answered.
I knocked again, a little louder – still no answer.
So, yes, I thought if I caught him sleeping with his hands up his skirt, I could explain it to him – or die of embarrassment either way – and I opened the door.
Diane did not fall asleep. Fortunately for me, her eyes were closed and she did not hear the door open. She leaned back in her chair, her feet on the table as before and her hands working hard. Her head was tilted back, her eyes closed – but her expression was not the dreamy look of a woman who had just reached climax, nor the nervous look of a woman approaching orgasm. It was the disappointed, frustrated look of a woman who did not achieve her goals.
I stared at him, thoughts racing through my mind that I’ll never remember – and then the chainsaw above shrieked again and he actually groaned in frustration, shaking his head. I recognized the problem immediately because I’ve experienced it myself many times when my mind hits one of those walls we sometimes face in life.
I had two choices, and only two. Had I done the ethical, professional thing and left him alone, I would have kept my job – but we risked losing a major account, a blow to a lawyer’s reputation that is sometimes irreversible. No one wants to hire a consultant whom a large firm doesn’t deem good enough. If Diane had gone into that meeting stressed, tired, angry and now sexually frustrated and trying to impress a dozen experienced male lawyers…
One option is fine with me. One could be nice to her. Again, this could be one of those signs that I am choosing to be nice to her but possibly disastrous for me, but…oh, okay. I fully admit, my brain was off. Diane is the best boss I have ever had and I would dare to consider her my friend. I had to help her─and I only knew one way.
I walked into his office, gently closed the door, walked around his desk — and before he knew I was there, I was on my knees, careful not to touch him, leaning forward and running my tongue over his fingers.
I have no doubt that if she hadn’t been as close as she was, as desperate as she was, or as depressed as she was, I would have either been kicked in the face, fired from my job, arrested, sued, or all of the above. Diane, however, was very close. The first time my tongue touched her, her fingers, like the rest of her body, stiffened in shock – but I didn’t waste any time. My tongue pushed her fingers aside, caressed her clit, then shivered – that was it. What her fingers couldn’t do because of the pressure and chainsaw, my warm, wet, soft tongue, combined with surprise, did perfectly.
The cold shock turned to stiffness and her body closed up tight. I felt her convulse, heard a deep breath, and then took in the sweet, pungent taste of her mouth. For a full fifteen seconds her breathing stopped, the convulsions continued, and then she suddenly passed out with a sigh of relief.
I licked her slowly as she reached climax and stopped when she calmed down. I leaned back on my knees and looked into her face – I’ll never know how I found the courage to do that.
Her head was still tilted back, but her eyes were open and looking straight at the ceiling. Her lips were parted, her breathing still shaky. She slowly looked up at me, her cold blue eyes wide with shock, her face still flushed red from her orgasm.
I couldn’t bear to face that look, so I licked my lips clean, stood up – without touching him – and walked out of his office, opening and closing the door as if nothing had happened.
At that point I was sure of two things — I needed a new job, and I would never forget the smell.
Two minutes later, just before the meeting was to begin, Diane opened the door, walked past me, and walked toward the meeting place without looking at me.
I thought I could pack up and run for my life before the meeting was over, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Belatedly, I remembered the pussy I’d just licked, my mind racing through sensory data that felt ridiculous since I couldn’t see clearly. Soft blonde hair, trimmed to perfection. Velvety soft, warm skin. I know that sweet, rich scent will linger in my dreams. The taste of it makes me want to take just one more lick.
I sat there blankly, replaying the experience over and over in my mind, wishing I had an office with a door, unable to move or think clearly for long periods of time. My mind wandered between the shock of what I had just done, the fear of my career being over, and the excitement that had me moving in my chair.
