Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
February the 2nd, Groundhog’s Day, and not a chance of the little furry rodent seeing his shadow today. The snow overnight has left the world blanketed in marshmallow fluff, and there is an eerie stillness to the air. A promise of an early spring to look forward to.
The day moves quickly at the office, he catches up on all of his paperwork, the phone is quiet allowing him to finish a little earlier than normal and he sits back in his chair, closes his eyes and falls asleep.
A tapping at his door pulls him from his nap and he sits up, looking around blinking his eyes, just a little disoriented. The second rap before he realizes just what has awakened him and he calls out to come in.
His secretary smiles as she looks at his tousled hair, his sleepy eyes and tells him to go back to sleep. They are snow bound, heavy snow has fallen most of the day and the plows are having a hard time breaking a trail through the thick white stuff. It might be late night, or maybe even tomorrow morning before the parking lot can be plowed.
As if on cue, as she speaks the last word, the power goes out. They are plunged into complete darkness for a split second ,until the faint glow of emergency lighting kicks in. A collective groan echoes the office building as the 70 some staff verbally announce their anguish with the weather.
He pushes his chair back and rises, his long lean body stretching out, all 6’3″ of him, and he walks out into the hallway. The entire office makes their way to the lunch room and low, almost whispered conversations can be heard, a buzz of voices, the frustration apparent.
He slips into a chair and listens. The general conversation is about the weather, underlying tones of blaming the groundhog, poor snow removal and the lack of consideration from the power company. Cell phones are getting a work out today. As head of the morale division for the office, he wants to get a general feel, before he tries to bring them under control and put a positive spin on their forced confinement.
He knows that having a task, something specific to do keeps people calm, so he starts mentally assigning tasks to his co-workers, playing to their individual strengths, and waiting for an opening to start things rolling.
As one of the women from the cleaning department starts sobbing, her dog has been in the house all day and what will happen if she can’t get home, joined by the guy from maintenance bemoaning his cat, and all of a sudden there is an air of panic in the room. It’s like a contagion gone wild, rampant and destructive.
Slowly rising from his chair, he moves to the front of the room, clears his voice and calmly, slowly and clearly says, “Let’s put the blame where it belongs….Mother Nature…the one force that we can do nothing to stop or change. The snowplow drivers are doing their best to clear the roads, the power company needs to be able to get to the problem, and no matter if the little four legged beast saw his shadow or not…we always get six more weeks of winter.”
By the time the last word slips from his lips, the room is quiet, all eyes are on him and he can feel the tension drop…just a little, but a step in the right direction. “We need to make sure that everyone has had access to a phone, to call whoever needs to know, and tell them that they’re ok, and will be at the office until the snow is removed. Who has a cell phone that they’re willing to share?”
He looks over the room and sees about twenty hands in the air…he picks two men and two women…calling them by name and instructs them to make sure each person is asked and allowed to use the phone. “Guys, check with all the gals, gals check with all the guys.” There… four people with a task.
“Who brought a lunch that they didn’t eat?” Almost half of the office raises a hand. He picks 5 of those to make sure that they accompany anyone with any left over food to retrieve it, handing out 5 flashlights from the emergency kit.
He points to the maintenance guy, “Is there a water cooler or two that you could wheel in here, so we don’t have to be stumbling in the dark?”
The man smiles, “Yes there are, and I know where there is a stash of treats in one of them manager’s offices, I’ll get those too.”
“Take a couple of people to help you, and catch!” he tosses another flashlight.
He picks four people at random, and tells them to get enough pens for everyone here and lots of paper, and two empty paper bags or small boxes please.
He is always amazed that when given an order, people respond, they just do what they are told to do. He is good at giving orders. He sits back down and listens to the conversation now, the tone has changed, there is a calm. He thinks, it may be a long night, cooped up with veritable strangers. He has to keep them busy…what to do next?
A small hand on his shoulder, makes him turn his head, “Do you need to call anyone?” says a voice, a nervous voice, as she holds the cell phone out in front of her.
He wonders illegal bahis why she is nervous, does he have that effect on people? Is that why they do what he says? Filing those questions away for later, he smiles at her, “No thank you, not even a pet home waiting for me.” He reaches and touches her forearm and she jerks away as if burned. Turning quickly, she makes her way around the room and he listens, ears tuned to just her voice. The nervous edge is gone and she laughs, her voice melodic as she shares her cell.
Mentally drowning out the buzz, he ponders his life. Almost 40, no wife, no girlfriend, definitely no boyfriend, no pets and he sees his parents and siblings only once a year. His only socializing is the weekly poker game with old college buddies. He sighs, and as the sound spills from his lips he realizes that the room has gone almost silent. He opens his eyes and looks around. The tasks are performed and now they await new instructions.
“Please pass the pens and paper around the room. Put a water cooler on each wall so that we are not banging elbows. Has everyone had an opportunity to place a call that needs to?” he pauses, and when there is no response he continues, “Thank you to the phone committee.” he turns to wink at the woman who offered her phone to him and watches, shaking his head as she slips behind the person next to her.
“Food people, we need a picnic style supper, we have to share whatever you have found, I’ll leave it up to you to decide how to serve it up,”
He points to the girl with the cell phone and crooks his finger at her, in a come hither motion. She slowly, painfully slow makes her way to him holding her cell phone out in front of her like a sword. “Did you need to make a call after all Sir?”
“No, but I need an assistant to help with this next task.” he stands up, towering over her shivering frame and announcing to the room that he needs everyone to write their names on a piece of paper. He hands her one of the paper bags. I want you to collect all the guys names in this bag. She scurries quickly to her task, putting space between them. He watches her, wondering why he doesn’t know her name…and realizes that he doesn’t know most of their names. 8 hours together, 5 days a week and who are these people?
Passing her the second bag to collect all the girl’s names he tells the picnic bunch to serve up supper.
As they eat their makeshift supper the conversation is low and pleasant, the sharing of personal info, the soft touches of care and concern and he sees the smiles.
His helper has deserted him and sits at the far end of the room.
Wiping his mouth, he asks for volunteers to clear the tables and without needing to assign the task several stand and start to clean up.
He motions for his helper to come forward while he explains what they are going to do with the collected names. She comes to stand next to him and he sees how tightly coiled her muscles are.
He lays a hand lightly across her shoulder, careful not to do anything to get an harassment suit launched and starts to speak, “Valentine’s Day is just 12 days away and we are going to have a secret Valentine’s draw. Don’t show anyone who’s name you have drawn. It is up to you to find out as much as you can about that person in the next few days to get them something that will mean something to them. That means that roses and chocolates are cheating. Because it’s a secret, don’t just ask questions about your coworker whose name you have, but find out things about lots of different people and we will knock off work two hours early on the 14th and meet here, then everyone can tell what they got and why its special to them.”
There is a look of shock on some faces, smiles on others and then a general burst of conversation. He smiles as he grabs the bag with the girls names and hands her the other bag…”No peeking, this is going to be fun!”
For an evening at work, trapped, no power and a pot luck type supper, it’s a rousing success, already the game has begun. He fondles the 6 scraps of paper in his pocket, more women then men, so he will be the secret Valentine man for all of them. At 11 pm the plows open the roads and at 11:15 the power comes on…he watches as everyone finally gets to go home, and then shuts off lights, locks the doors and makes his way to his lonely house.
Everyday at work he listens, the questions being asked, the answers, filing them all away. Susan, Betty, Kim, Yolanda…all the names he never knew before. Joe, Bob, Fred and Sam who is allergic to shell fish. All the details, never before known coming to the surface for a silly game, meant to calm raw nerves on a stressful night.
He pays no more attention to the six women whose names nestle in his pocket than to anyone else in his office. But slowly he picks up information about them all…except of course for his cell phone/assistant girl. And yes, a girl, barely out of her 20’s.
She appears to arrive at the office earlier than anyone illegal bahis siteleri else, stays later and does more work than any other two employees put together. Cheating he pulls her personnel file, finding little more about her than he already knows, her middle name, Joanna, and her address.
At home on the 12th, he is getting desperate, he uses the internet to research her address. A brick front apartment building, he sees her car parked in the tiny lot out back. Nothing to give him a clue here.
At work the next day, he inspects her car, parked in the lot before his as usual, and sees exactly the thing he has been looking for. He knows what to get her for her secret Valentine’s gift.
He makes a quick call to the automotive garage, explains what he needs and when he needs it.
Smiling, he spends the day catching up on work, looking forward to Valentine’s Day for the first time in …well for the first time ever.
It seems everyone has arrived at work early today, the cards and presents piled by his secretary’s desk…waiting to be given out. He smiles at the pile and adds his to it.
He delivers each card and gift personally to its recipient and pauses long enough to get an initial reaction as the secret item is revealed. His cell phone girl reads her card, looks perplexed and walks away.
At 2:30 the lunchroom is filled, the buzz of conversation tinged with an almost palpable excitement.
He listens as everyone in turn tells of their gifts, the range from a single favourite flower, a new book from a favourite author, the tie that was just the right colour, candy, a scarf, gloves to protect cold fingers and even an imported bath oil.
At last it was her turn and she blushed as she read the card…”Red is the colour of lips on a face, smiling and brightening my day, the colour of roses and carnations too, the colour of my heart that beats just for you. But red sometimes means the colour of fear, of danger and things we avoid, also the colour of pretty tail lights. Just look out the window, and see your chariot…shiny and bright in the sun, with matching red lights in the rear, not just one” Her voice quivery, tears shining unshed, she explains that her tail light had been broken and she had not been able to find a replacement.
“For everyone else, flowers and perfume is wonderful, but thank you to my secret Valentine for making me smile, you sure did deliver something very personal and thoughtful.”
With hugs and slaps on the back…the room disperses and he returnsto his office, intending to take the next day off, so getting a little ahead on my work, and well, where else did he need to be.
Hearing a cough, perplexed he investigates, finding who else at her desk, but his cell phone girl.
He smiles a lazy smile at her, and she looks up, shrieking out loud.
“Did I frighten you?” he grins at her.
“Yes.” she stammers. He watches her lovely red lips tremble. Her long shapely fingers fluttering at her throat. He looks at her, staring as if it is the first time he has seen her. Her blouse is unbuttoned far enough so that he can see the heave of her breasts each time she breathes. And her hair is unpinned, floating, framing her face.
He moves closer, as if a hand pushes at his back, he can’t help himself and he sits on the edge of her desk, still staring. Her grey eyes catching the overhead lights, turning them almost the colour of liquid silver, his hand reaching forward to softly brush her cheek. The air crackles, his manhood rising, straining at the confining fabric and he gulps, sucking in a noisy breath.
Her hand shaking, she reaches upward, her beautiful eyes shining, and covers his hand, pulls him forward, placing his hand on the swell of her breast. Her body shivering under his touch, he steels his own urges, caressing, squeezing with his fingers, feeling the fullness of her heavy breast.
The air is silent, not a breath can be heard, and then the exhalation of both their held breaths, in unison, breathing as one. He leans closer, his hand on the desk and touches his lips to hers, softly, almost imperceptible against his mouth.
He is rewarded with a sigh, her breath pushing into his mouth, her body quivering under his touch, not of fear this time but of need. He growls, it comes up from deep in his twisting gut, he has not felt this way in such a long time. The feelings flowing over him so foreign that it is now his eyes that sparkle, a little afraid.
She pulls away from his soft kiss, his hand dropping from her breast and he watches as she stands, moves around the desk and positions herself between his legs. His body twisting upright as his eyes follow her.
Her hands moving swiftly, laying on his muscled thighs, the heat of those small hands transferring through the fabric of his pants, his muscles rippling under her touch. He stares at her eyes, the liquid silver like water rising and falling, her hands harder on his legs. Her small hands surprisingly stronger canlı bahis siteleri than he would have imagined as she kneads his flesh, so warm, so sensuous.
He holds his breath, not sure if he should move, afraid to break the contact, more afraid to encourage it. He breathes out heavily, noisily as she breaks the contact, stepping backwards away from him, just far enough that he cannot reach her.
She grins, seductive, like a temptress, and then, his eyes widen as her fingers undo the buttons on her blouse, slowly, one at a time. Each inch of flesh revealed more beautiful than the last until she is shrugging her slender shoulders, the blouse wafting slowly to the floor, it puddles at her feet.
His ass shifts on the desk, his cock demanding his attention as it pushes upwards, the confinement almost painful. He dares not move to relieve the tension, fearful that she may stop.
Hes strong fingers undoing the zipper at the side of her skirt and he groans despite his resolve to stay quiet as her hips swivel, once, then twice and the material disappears, flowing down over her shapely thighs. She lifts one foot stepping out of the circle of the skirt, then kicks it away with the other foot. She is ethereal, standing barely clad in front of him. The soft swell of breast, barely held in check by the filmy lace of her red bra. His eyes travel downward, he forces his gaze past her breasts, to see the long expanse of pale ribcage, belly, tiny puckered and oh so tasty looking navel until he takes in the matching red panties, all lace and flesh peeking through.
His eyes staring, almost bulging as he swears under his breath, the panties sticking wetly to the contours of her puffy lips. His cock fairly leaps up, trying to break free from his trousers, and he groans, unable to stop himself, his body leaning forward, inhaling her heady scent.
He can hear her breath, as ragged as his and he drags his eyes downward once more, the stockings, thick black lace hugging her thighs, long legs tapering down to beautiful feet encased in three inch heels.
He shifts, preparing to stand until he hears her hoarse whisper, “No.”
So he settles in, laying his hands in his lap, pressing on his throbbing cock, stroking it through his pants. It is such a tease, watching her, unable to touch and his body shivers.
She smiles, seeing his discomfort, and starts a slow gyration of her hips, slow circles, the panties hugging her body, clinging to those engorged nether lips. Her fingers drawing circles around her nipples, making them swell and press at the bra. She lets her thighs part, feet shifting on the floor, staring into his eyes, licking her lips.
Her gyrations so sexy, so foreign in the sterile environment of the office, the two contrasting in a most arousing way. When he sees that tongue dart out to moisten those lips he longs to kiss, he is afraid that he may lose control as he has not done since he was a teenage boy. He starts to rise, leaning towards her and stops as she says, “NO!”
He stills, the only muscle moving in his body is his cock as it twitches, pressing tighter to his pants, and then a strangled cry from his throat.
She grins, reaching back to unhook her bra, letting her breasts tumble out, heavy with her arousal, nipples swollen, a deep red flush on her bare chest. She tosses her bra at him, and he gasps as it lands on his turgid cock, so swollen that the weight of the flimsy bra is almost painful.
His anguished sounds seem to spur her on, she whirls twice, stopping in front of him…a few inches closer than before, and stares at his crotch, watching the wriggling hardness under her bra. She licks her fingers, rubs the wetness over her nipples, making them glisten in the light. Then hooks her thumbs into her panties, lowering them, teasingly slow and as they start to drop, almost to the point that he will be able to see the top edge of her mound she turns around, long lean back facing him. The upper swell of creamy buttock quivering as he drinks in the sight of her.
He is unsure if he can withstand any more of her tantalizing torture, his cock so hard, his breath rasping in and out, his heart pounding and then….she bends over, her ass waggling as she pulls her panties off, so slowly he thinks he may lose his mind. The curves and swells of her pale globes, her thighs slightly spread, he can barely make out the winking eye of her back door, the tiny pucker of what appears to be heaven.
Her swollen pussy lips draping open, heavy with desire, swollen with need and he rubs furiously at his crotch, unable to stop his hand from touching himself. His eyes widen as the dewy moisture starts to drip from her laden labia, shining on her bare skin, shaved flesh rippling as he watches. She steps out of her panties, her ass sinuously seductive as she moves and her hand slips between her thighs, rising to meet the swell of those delicious looking lips, and parts them.
He growls and rises, unable to resist and grabs her hips, pulling her body back, grinding his crotch to her ass. The sensations shooting through him are filling him with an urgency, an animal instinct to take this female form in front of him and when he inhales…the smell of her sex permeates his brain.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32