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2
Jessica
My cell phone rings, interrupting the meeting I’m having with my assistant. In approximately forty minutes, I’ll be presenting last night’s assignment to my clients. After staying up till the wee hours of the morning, and my unexpected moment of pleasure, I crammed the last remaining agenda items in as soon as I reached work. It’s perfect—my projects always are—but still I’m nervous. I’ve done everything to prove myself, and this is my chance to let my boss know I’m exactly who she hired. That I will be an asset to this company by securing and producing the best training programs on the market.
“Do you need anything before I head out?” Erin, my assistant, asks placing a folder on my desk.
Picking up my phone, I accept the incoming call. “No, I think that’s all. I’ll do one more run through to be ready for the presentation this evening. Thank you!” I place the receiver to my ear.
“You hung up on me before I could get off last night. Doesn’t seem fair,” a deep voice pours out at me.
It’s the guy from last night. The rattle in his tone sends an oh-so-familiar shiver down my spine. I contemplate my response, toying with the thought of obliging, giving him an answer I’m sure he wants. Then I consider how crazy it all is, how loony I am for being turned on by his calls. What does that say about me if I give in to his request? Will he continue to call if I do?
“Are you there, beautiful?”
“How do you know I’m beautiful?” I ask after a moment of silence.
“You’ve gotta be! Only a goddess can make those delicious fucking sounds you made last night. Now, are you going to be a good girl and let me get off?”
My nipples harden at his request, pushing against the fabric of my bra. The line goes quiet and I struggle over what to say next. This is insane, borderline obsessive even. I should definitely hang up, but curiosity wins every time. “I’m in the middle of work.”
“Perfect,” he growls. “Do you have an office or a cubicle?” he continues with bated breath.
I sense he’s already started, not really caring to wait for permission. The thought instantly arouses me as I’m making my way to the door. “I have an office,” I add, closing it lightly before locking it and flipping the blinds closed.
“Then shut the door, sit that pretty ass of yours down at your desk, and wait for me to come.”
“If I do this, will you stop calling?” I ask, secretly pleading for him to say no.
“I don’t think you want that, sweets.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“The way you fucked yourself to the sound of my voice last night tells me otherwise. And I doubt you’d be preparing to phone bone me.”
I go quiet again, and he chuckles.
“Is the door closed?”
“Yes,” I whimper.
“Good girl! Now, spread your legs." His voice lowers a few octaves. “I want you touching yourself, sweets.”
I do as I’m told, hiking my skirt up around my ass and taking a seat behind my desk. Reaching inside the drawer to my left, I pull my earphones from my purse. Nervously, I plug the headset into the port and set the phone down on the desk. The last thing I want is to be caught with my hands inside my pussy, so I scoot close, leaving enough room to comfortably fondle myself. Yes, the door is locked, but one could never be too sure.
Gently, I slide my panties to the side and press my fingers against my clit. A chill runs through me as I dip my hand low, surprised by how wet I am. What is this guy doing to me? I wonder. Never have I ever been so horny and eager to touch myself, let alone to do so by the demand of a stranger.
“Are you touching yourself, sweets? Is your pussy wet for me?” he questions, the rattle in his voice sending shivers down my spine.
“Yes!”
“Good. Imagine me there with you. Watching from across the room while you play in your dripping pussy. She looks so pretty from over here.”
“Um.” I moan, dipping my fingers in and out of my wetness.
“Do you like me watching you?”
I don’t respond. Verbal communication during any type of sex has never been my thing. I like to focus and enjoy the bliss I’m in. But I sense he needs more.
