tagGroup SexKate's Christmas Job

Kate's Christmas Job

bympqm1968©

Author's note: a bit of a slow builder, but hopefully worth the wait.

*

Mark says... A few Decembers back and, facing the prospect of spending Christmas alone for the first time in years, I found myself at a low ebb. Having split with Donna in the summer, a stopgap at work colleague Gary's house had turned into an elongated stay. Not that Gary minded unduly, a fellow singleton, he was glad of the company and happy with the rent, besides which I happened to be his boss. I suspected that, with the New Year pay reviews impending, he'd be expecting a better-than-average rise this time around.

Having graciously let Donna keep the car, as well as being his lodger I was his passenger on the trip into work each day. A fortnight away from Christmas and with the inclement English weather at its most mischievous, I was grateful of the warmth of the Mercedes that was Gary's pride and joy. One of those ice-cold December mornings straight out of a Victorian Christmas card, a light covering of snow brushed the ground, supplementing the freezing rain to form huge slushy puddles. The breath from those walking on the pavement, wrapped in padded winter coats, hats and scarves, was clearly visible.

Being a passenger and not having to concentrate on the road, I didn't notice her until the very last minute. Dashing for the bus in inappropriate heels, a white blouse and cream jacket, she really was asking for trouble. Gary saw her, however, and issuing an evil chuckle veered suddenly left to churn through a massive roadside puddle of sludge. Wheels spinning, a blanket of murky icy water flew up to splash the girl neck high, turning everything she wore black in its wake.

My colleague howled with sadistic laughter as in the rear view mirror the girl banged her fists, stamped a foot and bawled mute expletives our way. A right nasty piece-of-work at times, Gary could hardly to stop laughing throughout the rest of the journey. Pulling up in the company car park beside the office, we headed inside to join our colleagues about to embark upon another dull Monday. Still, Christmas was close and, with the festive season in full swing, the huge over-decorated spruce in reception brought some seasonal cheer, alongside the telephonists who were clearly trying to outdo one another with the largest Christmas card collection.

An hour later Jane Rees, the office manager came up to my office to reveal that our new temp had been in accident and would be late. Looking at the piles of work that had accumulated thanks to annual leave and a bad strain of the flu, I sighed. "Where does the agency find these people?" I mused, the festive spirit having quickly evaporated and not for one moment realising the journey that was about to begin.

* * *

Kate says... If I hadn't needed the money so badly for Christmas, I'd have had no need to go temping. But I did and that was why I found myself rushing around on that horrid Monday morning. Blonde hair tied into a ponytail and smoothing the skirt down my bum, it wasn't until reaching the front gate that it dawned upon me just how badly dressed I was. The cream jacket and skirt I'd worn to my last job a couple of summers back was totally inappropriate in the bleak midwinter. I shivered, almost loosing my footing as I stepped out onto the glazed pavement like Bambi on ice.

Seriously pushed for time, there was no turning back. I had to press on or risk being late for work on the very first day. Heading to the bus stop, I was lucky not to topple over two or three times on the way. Yet nothing could prepare me for what happened next. It all happened in a kind of slow motion. He knew exactly what he was doing, the nasty so-and-so, swerving so as to plough through the puddle to send a tidal wave of dirty slushy water all over me. Dripping from head to toe, I banged my fists and let fly with a string of expletives before breaking down in tears.

With no option but to head home to change, sobbing all the way, I knew my 'work' wardrobe was stretched already, the tight black skirt more apt for the nightclub than the office, the split up the side far from subtle. The only other top that wasn't a t-shirt was a tight-fitting blouse from days gone by. Though I could hardly be described as busty, the blouse accentuated what boobs I had rather obscenely. I only hoped this firm had a relaxed attitude to dress code. I flung the heels in a bag and slipped into a sensible pair of trainers for the journey, making a note to get to the shops after work. I was so ill-prepared it was untrue.

10.30 before I made it in and, almost turning back several times, I carried on thinking only about the money and how useful it would be. Unable to locate the door – it just wasn't my morning – I headed up the side, searching for an entrance. It was then that I noticed it, that same damned Mercedes that had drenched me in crap first thing. A black mist descended and, not really thinking straight, I moved upsides, taking out a shoe. A grimace slipped from my lips as the heel scraped the paintwork, its sound like the shrill chalk-on-a-blackboard noise from my schooldays.

Satisfied with my handiwork, leaving a nice dense scratch, I quickly changed footwear and looked around for a way in, finally locating a carousel door. It was only as I waited in the reception, cheered by the huge Christmas tree and abundance of pretty cards, that it occurred to me that the owner of the car I'd just vandalised probably worked here. Breaking out into a cold sweat and about to flee, I heard a voice in my ear. "Kate Lee?"

"Yes, that's me," I replied timidly.

"Jane Rees, office manager," she introduced. "We'll just get you issued with a pass and I'll take you up."

Too late now, I figured no one could possibly suspect innocent little me of inflicting the damage.

I turned a deep shade of crimson upon following Jane into the office as, standing at the coffee machine, the first person I laid eyes upon was the driver with a smug expression I'd recognise anywhere. He glanced my way, thankfully without a hint of recognition (at least that's what I hoped), just that knowing look guys tend to give me whenever they set eyes upon me for the first time: heavy with lust and wanting. I had to run the gauntlet of a dozen more men, ranging from teenagers just out of college to those nearing retirement. A cosmopolitan bunch, they shared a collective one-track mind, mentally undressing me. "Is that the new temp?" I heard one whisper.

"Phwoar, wouldn't ya just!" mouthed another.

You should be so lucky, I thought, making a point of glancing over my shoulder and pouting, despite having clammy hands and a heavily pounding heart. "Okay, this is where you'll be working Kate," Jane announced. "I'll leave you in Kirsty's capable hands.

And capable hands they appeared too. In her late twenties / early thirties, Kirsty Peters looked a real dish. With a brunette bob and a businesslike demeanour, she was my antithesis. Thank God the job only lasted a fortnight. She pulled up a seat and started showing me around the system. A whistle-stop tour, I was ready to begin work by 11.30. With the fax machine located at the side of my desk, it was funny how popular it proved to be over the next few hours. By lunchtime, it seemed that every guy on the floor had been over to check me out.

A quiet and uneventful rest of morning, just as well after the dramatic start, I was getting ready to go to lunch when the still was shattered and all hell broke loose. Mercedes Man, it seemed, had discovered my handiwork. He stormed down the aisle, cursing and raging and heading for one of the private offices. Even with the door shut it was possible to hear his raised voice and I felt my face redden. "It's got a bloody great scratch down the side," I heard him whinge from behind closed doors.

Serves you right, I thought.

The office door opened and he was preceded by the guy had I remembered had been in the passenger seat. Of medium height and build, his head was shaved, a look I had to admit I quite liked. "That's the boss, Mark," disclosed Kirsty in a whisper, rising to join the Pied Piper-like exodus as everyone went off to witness my malicious act of vengeance.

I let them get on with it, heading off to grab a sandwich and familiarise myself with the surroundings. Having killed the mandatory half-hour, the afternoon turned out to be less apocalyptic than the morning, spent working solidly. Having quickly picked up what was required, I was able to shift quite a few piles of work. "Wow, I'm impressed," Kirsty enthused.

I blushed and at that moment we were joined by someone else. "Mark, this is Kate, the new temp," Kirsty introduced.

I stood and turned to face him, holding out a hand in greeting. He took it and smiled, issuing the obligatory welcome and a look I couldn't quite fathom. Was it possible he recognised me as the girl from the bus stop? Had he put two and two together? "How are you feeling now?" he asked in a deep voice that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.

And his smile, gosh, I nearly had to fan my face. "...After your accident," he clarified.

"Fine thanks," I replied, feeling my cheeks redden. "Sorry for getting in so late."

"That's okay. I'm impressed you came in at all."

Everyone seemed to be impressed by me so far, well everyone apart from Gary. As he turned and walked away, Kirsty grinned. "Well it looks like you've won the boss over already."

On account of the late start, a late finish was assured to make up the time or lose valuable pay. The office thinned gradually until the only sound came from my fingers clicking the keyboard. At least I imagined I was alone until a hand touched my shoulder. "Kate, would you mind coming in for second?" sounded Mark's voice from behind.

My heart leapt as I followed dutifully and he gestured me to pull up a chair the other side of the desk. Out of the blue he asked: "Kate, um, do you know anything about what happened to Gary's car this morning?"

My jaw dropped. Such a shock to hear those unexpected words, the guilt must have registered clearly on my face. I could feel myself overheating, throat dry.

"Well?" he prompted.

I stared up at the ceiling. How could he possibly know? Oh God I felt awful, tears welling up. "Yes, I do," I confessed. "I did it."

My candid admission seemed to take him as much by surprise as his question had me. He took a moment to process the information, staring into space. Then he looked over and straight into my eye. "Well, if nothing else I admire your honesty."

I bowed my head, avoiding his piercing glare.

"You were the girl at the bus stop," he said, before adding: "Not that that makes it right."

"No," I managed, then from somewhere finding the inner strength to defend myself. "It was a horrible thing to do. I was drenched through."

"Yes it was," he concurred

Gathering up more inner strength, I stood defiantly. "If you're going to sack me, I'll be off home and not waste any more of my time."

As I headed for the door he said calmly: "Kate, wait."

Our eyes met and he rubbed his chin. Moving back I sat down again, trembling.

Mark exhaled hard. "It's, um, it's not as simple as that, I'm afraid. Gary wants to involve the police."

The revelation knocked me for six and I erupted in tears, head buried in hands. Looking up eventually, I apologised.

"The thing is, I'm in a real dilemma," Mark offered diplomatically. Whilst I can't condone what you did, I CAN understand why you did it."

I looked over appealingly.

"Plus your work today has been first class," he added, as if trying to justify things to his conscience. "AND you seem to have brightened up the office no end. AND we're really snowed under at the moment," he added, trying not to grin at his own pun.

I offered a forced smile.

"Okay Kate," he said eventually, leaning back in the chair, hands behind head. "Tell me, what would YOU do if you were in my shoes?"

I shrugged. "Are you really going to involve the police?"

He let out a pained-sounding sigh. "I need to think about it. I'll call you back in a few moments."

I thanked him for his magnanimous approach to the sorry situation, before pulling up sharply. "Um, how did you know it was me?"

"CCTV," he replied, hand resting on a video. "You were caught red-handed."

I smiled awkwardly before departing. Doubtless he was thinking what a brainless bimbo I was.

* * *

Mark says... Well what a dilemma I was faced with! Never great at making decisions, being in charge of a twenty-strong team, that was somewhat worrying. The truth was I'd been promoted beyond my capabilities as a result of two former superiors moving on to bigger and better things. Rather than bring in an outsider with the requisite experience, they'd installed me in a caretaker kind of role. Things drifted like that for six months and, although far from ready, I was given the promotion on a permanent basis. Like a school uniform bought at the start of term, I'd grow into it eventually, but for now it was just a little big for me. "Oh Kate, Kate, Kate," I sighed, fingers drumming the desk.

It didn't help either that she was the cutest damn girl I'd laid eyes on in months. Not that that should sway my judgement... At that moment the phone rang. It was Gary and decision time. "Hi mate, did you manage to get it repaired?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Got a fair deal too. Turns out the bodyshop manager knows my old man. Not only that..." he continued, voice lowering as if about to disclose some top secret. "I think I might have pulled the receptionist.

"So all's well that ends well?" I suggested, trying hard to justify to myself saving Kate's neck. "Look, I've been through the CCTV footage and there's nothing on there," I lied.

"Oh well," he conceded. "Thanks for looking."

"That's okay," I offered, secreting the tape in bottom of the desk.

Two minutes later I was standing behind Kate, dispensing the news. She could keep her job and Gary wouldn't be taking things any further with the police. She breathed a sigh of relief and thanked me before returning to her work. "Go on, you should get off home," I suggested. "You've had enough excitement for one day."

"But I've still forty minutes to make up," she contested.

"Says who?" I replied, leaning over to sign her time sheet. "Go on," I prompted, "You've put in good day's work. Just try to get in a little earlier tomorrow, yeah?"

She smiled awkwardly and it took another prompt to get her to move.

After returning to the office to sign the day's cheque requisitions and some of Kate's dictation – most impressive typing I had to admit – I headed across the road to The White Hart. Despite being a Monday, there was a prevailing party atmosphere, courtesy of the festive season. The pub was all decked out in low-hanging paper chains, whilst spangly decorations adorned the walls and tinsel reflected back the lights of the fruit machine into which I fed a fiver. Mind wandering as the reels spun before my eyes, I found myself thinking about Kate. She'd made a huge impression in such a short space of time and I'd fallen for her in a big way. My resolution to avoid bunny boiler-types was in grave danger of being severely tested.

Having done my money in the bandit, I joined a group of acquaintances at the bar. Despite protestations to the contrary, a second drink arrived and I found myself being absorbed into a big round. In fact, it was gone eleven before I could get away, somewhat the worse for wear and stumbling into a cab.

As I drunkenly attempted to fit the key in the lock of the front door, missing the hole several times, I heard voices from within. Gary, it seemed, was entertaining. I opened the door quietly and crept through, eager not to disturb. Indeed he was entertaining, locked in a clinch with an attractive girl who, I surmised, was the receptionist from the Mercedes dealership. He must have assumed I was already in bed, for unashamedly they were getting cosy on the rug before the fire. I'm afraid to say, I was magnetised to the scene, gazing in from the doorway with voyeuristic abandon.

Gary certainly had had one hell of a result on account of Kate's destructiveness. The receptionist was stacked like a Playboy model and her tits looked real, jiggling naturally as she rode his cock. Occasionally he'd reach up and fondle or suck the nipples as he pumped hard from the buttocks. Gary was one lucky fucker – literally. Why couldn't I have his kind of luck? Deciding that enough was enough in my sex-starved purgatory, I headed to bed, falling into an easy snooze. I was roused momentarily by the screams and grunts as the pair came hard, before submitting once more to comforting sleep.

* * *

Kate says... Having made an extra special effort to go to bed early on Monday night, I was rewarded with a seven o'clock awakening the following morning. Another cold and shivery winter's morning, the urge to remain snuggled in the warm air-trap under the duvet was overwhelming. But I'd pledged to get in early and hated to break a promise, especially after the huge favour Mark had done me.

Hop-skipping to the bathroom to avoid the cold floor, I ensured the shower was piping hot before slipping under a jet of water that immediately smoothed away each and each goose pimple. Mmm, that felt so good, more so when the soap touched my body, rolling down my tits in thick trails and hanging off the ends of each nipple. The soap and water felt great on my pussy too, coating the sparse thatch of blonde. I hated to admit it but I was horny as hell and all that was missing was a shower buddy. Hmm, I could think of one or two ideal candidates from the office. In fact, somewhat perversely I was quite looking forward to getting into work.

A quick stop-off at the Christmas sales the previous evening, I was able to mix and match a number of cheap purchases, plumping for a vanilla blouse and grey slacks that showed off my bobble bum rather nicely. Still a little damp from the shower, the blouse stuck to my skin, accentuating what curve there was in my tits and hips. The boots I'd bought were far more sensible for the elements and a blue Paddington Bear anorak would keep out the cold.

Tea and buttered toast wolfed down, I headed off into the dull grey and cold pre-Christmas morning. A fifteen-minute wait for the bus, as my body temperature dropped, I could feel my nipples stiffen and chafe against the lacy black bra. Unsubtle I know, but I wanted to give the men in the office an image to remember whilst they were fucking their wives or girlfriends that night, or masturbating with me in mind. A not unpleasant sensation in my tits, I felt a series of tingles down below, stifling a satisfied little sigh.

Coming to my senses, I noticed that a city gent in his fifties was watching me intently. I smiled inwardly, basking in the effect I seemed to have over men of all ages – and even a few women too. In fact, my last two lovers had been women and, at 22 I'd grown to adore pussy nearly as much as cock. Nearly, but not quite, for there was no feeling to match the sensation of a good, hard, throbbing cock banging my tight little vagina. No strap-on dildo or hi-tech vibrator could ever quite replicate that feeling.

Lost in reverie, I must have groaned aloud for, growing braver, the city gent grinned my way. When finally the bus arrived, like a true gentleman he ushered me on first. In hindsight, he probably just wanted to check out my gorgeous arse as I mounted the step. The bus full of commuters, standing in the aisle was inevitable. The city gent had managed to manoeuvre so that he stood directly behind me, physical contact unavoidable as the bus moved with an erratic stop / start motion. He was so close I could feel his racing breath warming my neck.

Wickedly I decided upon a little harmless fun, pushing my bum back into his groin and hearing a baritone gasp of surprise. It made me feel like the dirtiest of sluts as I wiggled on his bulge, mercilessly teasing a fellow who was old enough to be my father if not grandfather. As a horn screeched in the road, the driver hit the brakes and the city gent was thrust into me. I could feel his cock rubbing my arse and hear the mumbling beneath his breath. Angling to allow even closer access, well as close as two sets of clothing would allow, this was as close to sex as it was possible without losing one's clothes and, for a girl who'd been starved of cock for a year, it felt blissful.

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