The Personal Assistant

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I’d followed him from job to job as he moved within the design industry. We had met a few years ago at W. G, Simmonds, a medium sized interiors firm in New York City and he was just getting started as a designer/salesman for contract interiors. I thought he was a bit pompous and too flamboyant, less than likely to succeed, but our boss had placed him between the two heavy hitters in our company which was an indication of faith in his abilities.

We met at the office cooler soon enough and chatted about the city and things we enjoyed doing. He was very tall and good looking in an aristocratic sort of way and that annoyed me. It annoyed me that he didn’t fit my description of the kind of man I thought I liked and yet I found him attractive and was intrigued by him. I tried to throw my sex in his face to get a reaction and yet he was entirely aloof and that made me mad. Every time I said anything remotely sexual he would talk about his wife and about how much he was enjoying married life…the dick.

Still, he was pretty smart and perhaps the only person in the office who could keep up with me and I found him highly intriguing. Within a couple of months I found he was always looking over my work, popping into my space and making an observation here and there and my work definitely improved. He was a natural and had an eye for design and a way of thinking that no one else in the company seemed to have, and when he decided to leave and move on to another company, he took all his clients and me along for the ride.

I’d often looked in the mirror and questioned my own refection. Everything about me was plain…nothing particularly special. As a matter of fact I only saw flaws. Five foot six so not tall enough, skinny as hell and with a small bust, a little bit of a mustache which I bleached weekly, dark roots in my blonde colored hair. I was pretty fit and I knew how to dress, and now that I sat opposite him I could dress to torture him and try to get a reaction. For this reason, I never wore underwear and would face in his direction and constantly cross and re-cross my legs. He would just roll his eyes and look elsewhere, but I caught him looking many times while he was on the phone.

His wife came to visit one day and I knew I would hate her before we’d even met. Then, there she was…tall, slender with a huge upright bust, creamy girl next door complexion, and English. Not only English, but from Oxford and seemingly a royal. Damn…she was everything I was not, educated to a Ph.D., patrician, equestrian, cultured in a way that intimidated any American, and with a voice so charming that few could focus on her words, the music of her speech leaving you stunned and feeling insignificant. Trouble was, as much as I wanted to hate her, I couldn’t. She was Mary fuckin’ Poppins and had the situation not been what it was, I’d of been in love with that woman, she was so delightful. Delightful…doubt anyone would ever describe me that way.

Christian and I were now part of a team and we worked together long hours, he in the field and me in the office. This day though, he said he would be taking me to meet clients and introducing me around town. I dressed to the nines and wore my highest heels and a short flowy dress, unbuttoned a sufficient number of buttons and wore my most effective push-up bra. We met at the drawing table and laid out some floor plans so he could point out the things which needed to be discussed in front of the people at Chanel. I bent low over the drawings and looked up enough times to notice he was constantly looking in my blouse. Hmmm…the unbuttoned top was catching his eye…good.


“Yes Christian.”

“Do you think you could button your blouse a bit? You’ll be somewhat of a distraction at the client’s office lookin the way you do.”

Okay…he was looking, but not lusting. Damn it. He was seeing me as a liability. He’d have to pay for that.

We went about our rounds and it was hot this July day. I was barely okay with it but Chris was suit and tie and I knew he was suffering the heat. Forget taking the subway anywhere. It would kill us, so we cabbed from place to place and he had removed his jacket and folded it in his lap in the taxis, the AC in each car hardly enough to make life breathable. His shirt was getting drenched.

I’d been working with him for quite some time now but had never seen him in the field and was blown away by the manner in which he was received by the clients. He wasn’t a salesman at Chanel, he was their consultant. Even the architect and designers…people of high repute, deferred to him and sought his opinions and advice. He turned to me several times and asked that I explain fine points and details of “our work” and I was stunned at how he had elevated me from an assistant to a professional in front of some of the most important people in the NY fashion world. I’d never felt valued before and now, here I was, handing out my business card to bahis firmaları the likes of Ralph Lauren, Karl Lagerfeld, and Giorgio Armani. My God…I was somebody!

I loved him for that. Before becoming his assistant I was an office hack, now I was a design consultant and had been introduced as Chris’ stand-in should he be away or otherwise occupied. Would I be able to serve and please his clients in his absence? He was putting a lot of faith in me and that felt terrific.

We spent the entire day in the field and our last stop was an installation. We walked the floor, filled with electricians, tin knockers, HVAC, and painters taping and spackling walls. It was brutally hot and I could see that Chris was flagging. “Come on…let’s go,” I said.

We stepped into the street and down the block was one of those shirt stores that advertised 5 shirts for $100.00. We stepped in and I bought him a blue cotton dress shirt.

“God Felicity, do I look that bad?”

“Honey, you could wring out a cup of sweat from what you are wearing. Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

We taxied to my apartment, a block from the office, and I told him to take a shower and stay in cool water for a bit. He smiled and the gratitude was written clearly across his face. With him in the bathroom I ran around quickly and tidied up my space, collecting undies and bras strewn about. Then I stopped and decided to leave some of my lingerie lying about. Why should I go out of my way to cover up who I am…my style.

He came out of the shower wrapped in a towel around his waist and I blanched. Shit…never considered he’d have a good body beneath the suit and tie. Damn, he’s hot. Men with minds often distract a gal’s attention to what may reside beneath the wrapping and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Let’s see…broad shoulders, magnificent arms, nearly hairless chest, abs, and a belly button that was long and deep, drawing my attention to the shadows within. Oh my God…look at the trace of hair leading down to the towel. Shit…the fuck has me losin’ it. Damn.

He walked around the living room, smiling that I’d hung his suit on a hanger, then started looking at the book titles on the shelves. “Hey Felicity, we read some of the same stuff,” He said as he looked about. As I came out of my dream state I noticed his back for the first time concentrating on skin instead of structure.

“Shit Chris, you’re back is completely blotched. Hang on, I’ve got something for that.”

I returned with an anti-fungal crème from the medicine chest.

“Here, hold still a sec.”

I applied the salve and swept my fingers over the raised red pattern. He had definitely suffered from the heat, poor guy. Suits and ties in this heat, sheesh.

God…I’m touching his skin. I’m rubbing this into his skin! I came closer and could smell the sweet fragrance of my shampoo as I closed in on his neck, placing my left hand on his upper arm to hold him steady. He stood still and seemed unaffected but I was beside myself. He was standing before me wearing just a towel and I was holding him and touching him. Shit!

“Shall we go to Merchants next door and have a bite? My treat,” he said.

“Sure thing. That would be nice.” Damn. Don’t want to leave quite yet. I don’t want to leave at all.

“Are you sure you want to go out to eat. I could make a meal of you right here on the bed.” Oh my God. Did I really just say that?

He turned around and smiled, saying nothing, totally unaffected. Fuck…did I just say that?

He dressed and put on the new shirt I’d bought him, foregoing the undershirt which was still soaked in his sweat. I watched him dress and as he threaded his way into the new shirt saw the muscles all about stretch and flex their way into the arms. I stood before him and started to do up his buttons and he smiled and sighed ever so slightly while I did this. I was crossing a line and we were both aware of it. But he had set up barriers and wasn’t about to cross them…not yet anyway. I suddenly reflected on the fact that this was the first time I had him in my apartment, alone. I’d had him in my shower and walking around in a towel. Barriers be damned; we’d already crossed so many. This was a great day for me, professionally and socially with my boss.

We had a couple of drinks and some basic stuff. He ordered a Cobb salad and I ordered chicken wings. I really didn’t want them but they gave me the chance to place the drum sticks to my lips and give my food a real blow job just inches from his own face. He watched me eating and smiled, both of us recognizing what I was doing and enjoying the desired effect. As I reached out with my tongue to tickle the end of a particularly large drum stick, he said, “Stop it Felicity…you’re killing me.”

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I guess not, but you are being very playful and sexy and you’re giving me a boner.”

I put down the bone and looked at him, coming even kaçak iddaa closer and making a hollow fist in front of my mouth, moving it back and forth in front of me while pushing my tongue within my cheek to make a bump rise and fall within.

“Oh shit.” He said, as he watched me give a virtual blow job.

We were on to our third cocktail and I sat back, just staring at him. I had watched his mouth the entire time we ate. Salad didn’t replicate anything sexual but when he ate the last of my wings I sat forward and watched his lips. Oh God he’s hot, I thought. I watched him and his lovely mouth, replacing the wing with my vag, dreaming I was spread wide and enjoying his lips and the teasing of his tongue. He didn’t flinch. He wasn’t even trying to be playful, the bastard. He was just eating my wings and doing it without any attempt at sexuality. It was all going on in my mind. I was the one dreaming of having his face between my legs, grabbing his hair and pulling him into me…mashing that beautiful face into me as I came on his lips.

I was suddenly aware that I had my hand inside my own blouse and was pinching my nipple pretty hard.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked.

I sat up for a sec and reached behind me under my shirt and unsnapped my bra, then pulled it off beneath my top and out through one of the sleeves.

“You are a nut Felicity.” He laughed. You learn that from Flashdance? Are you Jennifer Beals now?”

“I wish. She’s hot. I’d fuck her.” I answered.

He laughed.

“You are crazy, woman. You are the wittiest girl I know and I fight hard to keep up but you are also sexy as all hell and coming at me like a freight train this evening. So you would fuck Jennifer Beals huh? How?”

I looked at him while I reached down and pushed my brassiere in my hand bag.

“Maybe I’ve got a dick. You ever think of that Chris? Let’s finish our drinks and go back to my place and you can check for yourself.”

He didn’t even respond…just smiled. It was funny and I thougth about the fact that although I wasn’t getting anywhere with him, I could absolutely tell that he was enjoying me and his eyes also told me that he found me very attractive. Somehow that meant the world to me. Whether we wound up in my bed or not, it was so rewarding to know I had his undivided attention and admiration. God I loved this guy.

“And if you have a dick, what would you expect me to do with it?” He asked.

I leaned in right up to his face and whispered…”Oh, I’d expect you to suck on it and let me cream between your lips, just as I’d suck on your cock and lap up the cum like your fuckin’ dog.” She lifted her hand to her face and repeated the blow job motion and cheek bump in a rhythm which had given him an erection just moments before.

He smiled and watched my lips as I made the motions.

“Oh God…I’d love to cum in your mouth…your sexy mouth. You’ve got a lot of sass, you know that. Gonna get me in trouble one day.”

“Oh please don’t make me wait. Come on, let’s go back to my apartment. You don’t have to do anything. Just stand in front of me while I suck your cock and then jerk yourself off onto my tongue. I won’t miss one juicy squirt. I promise. You don’t have to do anything to me so your wife won’t mind. Although I’d love to send you home smelling of my pussy…dripping with my juices. Astra would love that.”

We both laughed long and hard.

“Gotta pee…I’ll be right back.”

She rose and stumbled a little. We were smashed, and made her way to the lavatory. I watched her ass as she swayed her way in the distance. Jeez, what an assistant!! I had to watch myself here. She wants to be my boy toy and I’m likely to fall into her web in the first moment of indiscretion. The instant she was gone I reached into her bag and withdrew her bra and put it in my briefcase. Hmmm…now I have a trophy. Time to go home.

I walked her to her place and she invited me up for oral sex and I declined. But she was surprised when I reached over and hugged her tight. She swept her hands over my back and buried her face in my collar and I grabbed the back of her head and scrunched her hair in a tight fist. We pulled apart and I looked in her eyes.

“You are a dream Felicity. You are one fuckin’ hot fantasy of a woman. Good night sweetie.”

I left her standing at her door watching me hail a cab for my ride home. Smiling still, we waved at one another as I pulled away. Damn that was hot.

My God how he held my head when we parted. He held me the way he would hold me if he was fucking my face…fucking my mouth. Oh God I want him to do that!! I want him up my ass. I want him to pummel me into submission. I want him to spray me all over my face. Holy shit. I’ve never been this horny. I’ve got to get upstairs or I’ll wind up fucking the first stranger who walks by. Damn.

I was in early the next morning. Was always the first person in the office; an office of about 50. kaçak bahis I went to my cube and withdrew Felicity’s bra and pinned it to my tack board…my trophy. Everything being a bland beige in our space, her frilly light blue brassiere stood out. I was alone and leaned in and took a sniff. Nice. She is very girlie. She is an absolute role model for the independent, bright and accomplished hot fucking tease bitch. God it’s going to be tough working around her today. I must ignore her completely as if last night never happened. I can’t believe I showered at her place. Can’t ever do that again or she will simply walk in and join me, no doubt about it. She’s done teasing I think.

The traffic started to pick up as other employees strolled in. Mail was delivered by our crazy receptionist who was another hot chick who never held back. I loved this office. I loved my industry. Lots of gorgeous women and gay guys and me!

I heard the voice of the owner of the company, a handsome man ten years older than I with a stick up his ass…a conservative, power-hungry prick who abused the women in his office and liked to dominate the men. He hated me because he had zero control but backed away because I was putting a couple million a year in his pocket. I had forgotten that he was touring the CEO of a multibillion dollar supplier of ours around the office this morning.

“And here is our most successful salesperson, Chris, who holds the best fashion accounts in the city.” They arrived at my desk and stood over me, not looking at me, but at Felicity’s bra dangling on my tack board. The conversation ended and they stood there staring at my trophy, mouths agape. Just then she came in and dumped her bag on her desk and sat in her Aeron chair, checking her messages.

“What’s this on your wall?” the CEO stammered. I looked up and saw smoke coming out of my boss’ ears.

“Oh…I was at Donna Karan’s office last night and Donna asked me to match the fabric on this bra for her new seating in her intimates department.” Phew…clever answer to his question, I thought with pride. I was always quick and sharp in the mornings.

Just then, Felicity said “Excuse me” and pushed her way between the two men and pulled her bra off my wall, returned to her desk and stuffed it in a drawer. No comments, her focus back to her phone.

“Ahem…yes indeed,” the CEO said and walked on, the smell of smoke from my boss’ ears left floating in the air. I looked over at her, completely casual and disinterested, acting as if her actions had not affected anybody. What a flake! Then she turned my way and winked, slowly crossed her legs my way giving me a great view of her vag and smiling. Shit!

Tonight was the company party, celebrating 15 years in business. It was to be held at the Rainbow Room at the Top of the Rock in Rockefeller Center and I’d brought my tux. It was also the company Christmas party and most people had brought a change of clothes. As the day came to an end, Felicity invited me back to her place to change. This would be my first time in her place since the summer; since I’d stolen her bra.

I couldn’t believe he accepted my invitation to change at my place. He’s kept his distance since our night at Merchants and although invited up several times, he always demurred. I was already strategizing in my mind the wild scenarios which would ensue. Nothing would happen until I got a couple of drinks in him I was sure, but if I could get him back at the end of the evening I would just tear him apart. He wasn’t going home to Astra this night…not until four in the morning. I wasn’t thinking in terms of breaking up his marriage. I just wanted a piece of his life; a little more than just the assistant shit. I wanted to be ravished by this man…spread wide and torn apart. I could think of little other than having him dig me a new asshole. I’d never been so hot for any man and the constant exposure to him was killing me. Every day we went to clients. Every week or two we were at a function. Last week he had spoken at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and I sat there stunned by this man…this boss of mine…who was admired and sought after by the most accomplished people in the city. Tonight’s the night then.

I excused myself to the bathroom and told him to change in the living room, closing the venetian blinds. After about a minute, I came out and ran past him naked to retrieve something from a drawer. He was in his briefs and I reveled in the expression of mild shock, replaced by an amused smirk on his face as I ran past, clutching a towel to my bust. I stopped just before the bathroom door and mumbled to myself as I bent over to touch my feet, leaving him free to examine my ass, no doubt my best feature. He was looking, and as I rose again, I gave him a wink.

When I returned I found him struggling with studs and links and helped him install them in his stiff as a board starched white wing collared shirt. Something very erotic about a woman helping a man dress in formal attire. I loved it, even more because I’d never done this. He didn’t wear a clip-on bow tie. He tied one himself and that was another thing that set me off…that he even knew how.

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