Temptation

I never viewed temping as a stopgap like most people. I loved the irregularity; the unpredictability. I didn't have time to get bogged down in a never-ending cycle of filing because I was only there for a week or so. I could swan in and instantly become the mysterious new girl; wank fodder for every man in that office. I was the perfect no-strings fling: up for a quickie and gone in the blink of an eye so any awkward encounters in the lift were few and far between.

I had worked in loads of offices and they were all the same. I tried to summon up some enthusiasm as the MD continued to show me around.

"Eva, let me introduce you to Daniella."

Two pistachio eyes swept over me, disinterestedly. She arched a bored eyebrow and stifled a yawn before rearranging her plump lips back into their original pout.

"Hi," I mumbled.

"Hi," she sneered, her focus already back on her computer monitor.

She was beautiful. Her caramel-coloured hair flowed over her shoulders; her collarbone jutted out like a knife edge. She flicked her kohl-rimmed eyes to a huge stack of paper in the corner of the room.

"All of that needs shredding."

Her voice sent prickles down my spine. My nipples hardened under my cotton blouse. It was an unusual mixture of emotions: fear tinged with excitement; dread mixed with desire.

My first week was terrible. Daniella watched me constantly with those unnerving green eyes, breathing down my neck. She terrified me and yet at the same time, I found her fascinating. I knew nothing about her apart from the fact that she wore Chanel No. 5 and drove a black Lexus. She didn't wear a wedding ring and there were no photographs on her desk. Her inscrutable aura entranced me. I was bewitched by her unfathomable depths. She would strut from one side of the office to the other and every pair of eyes would be fixed on her, feasting on the sight of her satin skirt skimming the curve of her ass, her tight blouse clinging to the arc of her breasts, her lean legs striding with poise in killer stiletto heels. She had men and women alike, regardless of their sexuality, eating out of the palm of her hand and I was her newest recruit.

Drinks after work on Fridays were a staple of office life. Every week at five-thirty, a group of us would pile into The Oak. After claiming our usual table in one corner, I waited until we had all taken those first, satisfying sips before I raised the inevitable subject.

"So, Daniella..." I let her name dangle tauntingly for a while before continuing, "Does she ever join you for drinks after work?"

Ingrid shook her head and laughed, "You must be joking!"

"Well, what does she do?" I pressed, half to myself than the rest of the table, "Seriously, does anyone know anything about her? Is she married? Has she got kids?"

My question collided with a wall of blank faces.

"I think she moonlights as a stripper," someone piped up; "she's certainly got the body for it."

We all nodded solemnly. I was surely not alone in imagining Daniella twisting herself around a pole or writhing on a table; a leather bra struggling to contain her pert breasts. I shifted in my seat and shrugged off my coat. Using a beer mat, I fanned myself. Several other suggestions were thrown into the mix as the alcohol worked to loosen everyone's tongues and inhibitions but I preferred to keep my theory to myself. I envisaged Daniella on a yacht with a bunch of other beautiful people, drinking champagne and eating sushi. I pictured her hair cascading down her honeyed shoulders, tendrils resting between her breasts. After diving gracefully into the sea, she would emerge, her white bikini transparent. Her nipples would clearly be visible through the thin material, seeking me out, beckoning me closer. I took a sip of my drink, using two hands to keep my glass steady. I had often fantasised about sleeping with girls, as I suspected most women had. There was something intensely sensual about the idea of licking a women's vagina, kneading her breasts.

The following week was my last. Being on the brink of leaving didn't mean Daniella treated me any differently though. On my last day, she had pointed to a pile of paper and barked "shred" at me as soon as I walked through the door. Something inside me snapped. I had pandered to her whims and nuances for almost a month and been bullied and belittled in return.

"You know if you said 'please' once in while, people might stop thinking that you're a complete bitch."

It was the first time I had seen her rendered speechless. I grinned as I stalked into the store cupboard where the shredder was kept and began my mundane assignment. The door opening behind me failed to grab my attention. When it closed again, I assumed that I was once again alone until two hands snaked around my waist and moved up to cup my tits.

I gasped in horror and looked down in alarm. Ten beautifully manicured nails fondled my breasts. I turned around to face Daniella.

"What...?" I started.

"Don't say you haven't been thinking about this moment as much as I have," she scoffed,

She slowly unbuttoned her blouse, gradually revealing peachy tits nestled in a black satin bra.

"I liked it when you stood up for yourself earlier," she played idly with a slightly exposed nipple, "It really turned me on."

I fought to lift my gaze from her cleavage. When I finally looked into her eyes, she glared at me and I let myself succumb to the horny frustration that had been building up inside me. I pushed her roughly back against the wall and kissed her. Our tongues entwined hungrily; her fingers were entangled in my hair. I pulled her breasts free from her bra and pinched her nipples, delighting in watching her face twist in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Breathlessly, she pulled away from me and lifted her skirt up to disclose fishnet stockings and French knickers.

"Touch my pussy," she pleaded desperately. I walked towards her and kissed her fiercely, our teeth grazed against each other.

"I'm the one in charge," I reminded her, "I want to watch you finger yourself."

Without hesitation, Daniella deftly slipped a finger between her glistening labia and started to move it in and out. I stared at her, transfixed, dying to flick her clit with my tongue. But not yet. Now, it was her turn to wait.

I decided to prolong the agony by stripping for her. I ripped my shirt open, losing several buttons, and uncovered my tits. Her hand moved faster against her pussy. She bit her lower lip.

"Another finger," I commanded, drunk with the power I had over her. She obeyed; restraining a cry. I walked towards her and pushed my breasts in her face. Submissively, she sucked my nipples.

"Another finger," I hissed.

With an effort, she forced a third finger inside her engorged pussy. The pressure of her teeth on my nipples intensified. I bit back a scream. Annoyed that she had regained control, I bent down and licked her clitoris urgently, trying to synchronise my tongue with the rhythm of her fingers.

"Just how long were you going to make me wait?"

She ignored me, throwing her head back and driving her fingers deeper inside as she approached orgasm. I wanted to take her to the verge of climax and leave her there, wanting, but she looked so gorgeously rampant that I couldn't resist carrying on. I thrust my tongue into her mouth, letting her taste her own flavour, as she reached her goal. She leant back against the wall heavily, exhausted. Slowly, languorously, she slid her fingers out of her pussy and ran them up over her stomach and breasts, leaving a trail of shimmering juice. I buttoned my blouse as best as I could and smoothed my skirt down. Daniella didn't make any effort to tidy herself up. She remained where she was, resting against the wall with her hair in wild disarray and her legs thrown open recklessly. She lifted her pussy-soaked fingers towards her mouth, a sly smile on her face. Possessively, I snatched her hand and licked her fingers, savouring the musk of her on my tongue.

I left her where she was and cleared my desk as casually as possible, basking in the curious expressions on my neighbours' faces. At last, I had become the inscrutable temp. By the time my desk was empty, Daniella still had not returned to her seat.

"What have you done with Daniella?" Ingrid asked, "She's been gone for ages. Have you finally finished her off?"

"Something like that," I replied.