I walked into the board room and she was sitting across from the door with her feet up on the chair beside her. It was Friday afternoon drinks and she had been teasing me, flirting with me, for weeks. I walked up to her and motioned with my hand; Katrina slid her legs of the chair, bringing her knees up and providing me with a glimpse of red satin panties that distracted me from her cheeky wanton stare; her lips parted, showing her tongue, looking at me with wide sparkling eyes, her lips turned up in a mischievous smile.
Katrina is a buxom redhead with long wavy curls, full red lips, a creamy off white complexion that accentuates her soft full breasts, which are usually cheekily displayed with a deep cleavage. She has a mirthful sprinkling of freckles here and there, she is young, married to an older man and a real flirt, full of impish charm.
I sit down and pat my thigh, with a wicked smile she lifts her legs and rests them on my lap, my gaze is drawn to the red patent leather pumps with a moderate 4 inch heel, her slim ankle, the white skin like marble, her shapely calf; I rest my hand on it and as I feel the warmth from her skin I am simultaneously aware of the musky sweet smell from her shoes, the arousing smell of a foot enclosed, closeted, by leather for some time. My gaze resumes its wondering over her knees and ample thighs, the creamy flesh beckons with a welcoming play of the light making them sheen with a satiny brilliance, I take in her red linen dress the, flat lustre of the material enhances the satin sheen of her skin especially as I take in her slim waist with a wide black belt and move to her breasts.
They are full luscious orbs of white beauty, splashed with a dusting of freckles, her cleavage enhanced as much by the black and white contrast cause by the deep shadow between her breasts, as it is by the lift up cups of her bra, a red satin number with lace trim, a glimpse of which become visible as she leans forward and lifts my chin with her delicate finger, so that my eyes meet hers. “I am up here, um, you look a little lost, you know ” the others in the room laugh as I reply “not lost, just stopped on the way for some sightseeing”. She smiles and gently slaps my cheek “naughty boy, making us wait for you”. Samantha, sitting across the table, breaks the spell, bringing me back to a room full of my co workers “Yes, if you were any later we would have finished the wine without you” she says as she pours me an icy cold glass of my favourite Marlborough Sound, semillon sauvignon blanc. The passionfruit aroma mixes with the musky female smells of the room.
I work for an online magazine with a staff of 20 and I am the only 3 males, Samantha is the CEO I am her 2IC and operations manager, as well as writer and editor for the erotica workshop, a section of the magazine where we develop erotica in a way more akin to the 1920s concept of bohemian lifestyles, unconventional, liberal, marginalised.
My hand caresses Katrina’s leg as I slide it down he smooth satiny calf to her ankle where I grip the heel of her shoe and lever it downward slipping it off her heel and sliding it forward against the resistance of her warm, slightly puffy feet, the smell arouses me with a furtive pungency, I am totally entranced by the personal smells of a women, I’m also not immune to the stares of my co worker as I massage Katrina’s toes, my supple fingers rubbing between her sweaty toes, her white feet are beautiful with their ruby red nail polish and chubby toes. I’m sure she cannot help but notice my hot turgid erection pulsing beneath her legs. I notice looks from my co workers, as their conversations pause, some shocked, some smiling with knowing looks as Katrina pulls back her other leg, sliding it along my bulging cock, she pauses, surprised by its confirmed presence, then she proceed to rub her leg back and forth. I turn and look into her face, my eyes are stung by her beauty, her eyes wide with surprise and clear with lust, no words are necessary, we both know what is going to happen.
by Glen Hillman
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