tagErotic CouplingsYou Rubbed My Back; I’ll Rub Yours

You Rubbed My Back; I’ll Rub Yours


All characters are 18 years or older.

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"Well, just don't let it happen again, Tim. We can't afford to lose a single client these days," my boss fumed.

Soon after answering his call I had switched from speaker phone and picked up the handset, now held away from my ear as he launched into one of his tirades. He was grossly over-reacting to Megan's boo boo. The customer would be mortified if he knew she would get chewed out like this over a simple mistake. If we were to lose a customer, it would be due to the way George treated good employees like Megan.

But George wouldn't see it that way so I covered for her. George knew he needed me and I knew it better than he. I also knew we couldn't afford to lose another good employee like Megan. There weren't enough of us to fill in the gaps anymore. Taking a little shit on the phone was the least I could do for the rest of us in the firm. It would pass and George would apologize later but that hadn't cut it with the last two good people George spoke to directly.

One had just walked out in the middle of George's tantrum and the other had waited to tell him to go fuck himself before stomping out in a rage just as juvenile as George's. So now George called me first so I could bring people into line without losing them.

Megan was one of our best people even though she'd only been with the firm for five years, much better that the two that had quit. She and her husband had become friends of ours, but that wasn't why I covered for her. The plain fact of the matter was that we couldn't afford to lose her.

After I hung up the phone, Megan's BMW pulled into the front lot. I waited, as I often did, for her legs to be revealed when the car door opened. Megan turned toward the center of the car, mostly likely gathering her purse and putting papers back into her briefcase that she'd been reading whenever she stopped at a light. There was never a wasted moment in Megan's life.

And now, the moment I was waiting for. Megan twisted and leaned toward the passenger seat, an action that pulled the hem of her skirt from her knees, exposing a healthy expanse of golden thigh. The curve starting under her knee and dropping in a perfect elongated 'S' defined the truly feminine nature of the underside of her thigh, a geometric shape that never failed to stir my loins. The corvette indention running along the side of her thigh added an extra tingle to the tip of my prick. God, she had nice legs.

Leaning in further, Megan stretched one muscular calf out the door, reaching for the pavement with an inward-seeking high-heeled toe to brace herself. A hand and purse suddenly appeared through the door as Megan began extracting herself from the car. Quickly, I looked at my computer screen in case she looked through my office window until I remembered that people can't see through the dark glass.

When I looked up, Megan was several steps beyond the back of the car, purse over the shoulder of the hand carrying her briefcase while the other hand stretched behind, wielding the keys that sent the signal making the car's taillights flash. Megan's legs followed one another with firm steps, their calf muscles alternately tensing and relaxing, initiating a second stirring in my loins. She was such a robust, healthy woman.

Megan's suit jacket was pulled back toward the outstretched hand, revealing a fancy white blouse stretched over her right breast, briefly outlining it in the warm afternoon sun. My breath caught and my mouth went dry.

I was, or should I say am, a happily married man with a lovely wife and two wonderful children. So was Megan. I had thought many times about the feelings she invoked in me every time I saw her, especially when she didn't know I was looking, whether at the office, parties, or various outings with my wife and her husband Neil. I had no answers; I didn't know why I was so fascinated with her.

True, Megan was good looking but there were lots of other women in our city that were prettier, my wife included, but there no denying there was something special about Megan. She was vibrant and, despite her dedication to work and family, didn't seem overworked, and she never complained. In fact, she always gave the impression she was ready for a little fun.

It didn't help that I sensed Megan had similar feelings about me. Maybe that was wishful thinking or fantasy on my part. There weren't any concrete messages but I had a feeling in my bones — not boner, come on now — a self-assured feeling that if it weren't for our respective spouses, we would be together.

I watched Megan as she reached the sidewalk in front of my office and turned to walk past my window, my eyes easily following her pleasant figure noting, in particular, how the pulled-back suit jacket still revealed the thrust of her right breast under the frills of the fancy white blouse.

To me, Megan's path was a signal in itself. Everyone else parked and cut across the parking lot directly to the front door but Megan always headed straight for the sidewalk and walked past my window. If that wasn't a message, then I was desperate and I knew I wasn't. I had never strayed in nine years of marriage and had never wanted to, outside a few unrealized alcohol-induced flirtations.

I sighed, and returned to my work. I had a lot to do, having just returned from vacation.


"Hi babe."

I couldn't keep weariness out of my voice. I could have fooled anyone else but not my wife. She knew me too well.

"Sorry Patti. Is it that time already?"

I looked out my window. The first hints of dusk were threatening the late summer sky and the parking lot was empty. Except for Megan's car. That wasn't unusual. She often worked late and was often the only car still there when I left the office. I looked at my watch. It was after eight! No wonder Patti was calling.

"Jeez, I'm really sorry babe. I didn't realize it was this late. I don't know where my mind is." I listened to Patti's response, then replied. "No, no. I should have remembered."

I listened again, gazing at Megan's car in the dimming light.

"Ok, I'll order a something from DJ's. Yup. Yup. Well, tell them to be good or I'll have to speak to them when I get home. Ok, I won't... well pretty late but before midnight. No, I won't do that again. Promise. Love you too. Bye."

I hung up the phone. Oh, yes. I had learned my lesson about stopping to have a couple on the way home. There was really no need to make a promise about that. I kicked my chair away from the desk and leaned back.

That was one hell of a tantalizing night. I had worked late and was tired, thinking about having a nightcap as I passed The Snug on the way home. I stopped and walked wearily through the door, pausing briefly to survey the tables to see if I recognized anyone before heading for the bar. There were two empty stools next to each other, one with an empty drink in front of it. I sat on the other and ordered a drink when the bartender came to remove the empty glass.

I was looking down at my phone, compiling a text message, when a pair of feminine feet appeared between my stool and the one next to me. I admired the lady's legs as she lifted herself up onto the stool and swung in to face the bar. I tried not to be obvious as my eyes strayed up to her knees and over six inches of bare thigh but I knew, belatedly, that the woman would have noticed. As I continued to lift my head, I hoped she was looking away trying to catch the bartender's attention. She wasn't.

"Howdy, stranger," Megan smiled, obviously amused.

"Oh, Megan. I didn't know it was you... I mean, uh, I didn't know you were here."


Megan's amusement flourished. She swung her nyloned legs toward me and crossed the right over the left. I tried and failed not to glance at her legs. She was enjoying herself.

"I was just sending a message."

It was a feeble effort to change the subject but Megan gallantly allowed it to work.

"Don't let me stop you," her teeth flashed brilliant white. "Where is my drink?"

She turned to wave to the bartender as relief spilled over me.

One drink turned into another. We chatted and laughed, sometimes at the expense of our coworkers but mostly about simple day to day life and general observations about people. Megan eventually excused herself to visit the washroom. After sufficient time had passed, I looked to see if she was coming, each time disappointed when she wasn't. I wanted to enjoy the thrill of her approach, knowing it was me she was joining.

After ten minutes, I became concerned and craned my neck to look down the hallway leading to the washrooms. As I sat back, my eyes swept across the room and noticed Megan standing at the edge of the small dance floor wearing the amused grin that had greeted me earlier when my eyes had finally risen above her knees. She beckoned. I shook my head but she urged me toward her and I succumbed.

As I approached, Megan spoke, "It's your penance for scoping my legs."

I blushed and hoped the dim light of the bar would hide my embarrassment.

"I wasn't..."

"Don't even try to deny it," she cried, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the center of the dance floor.

A slow song was already playing. Megan pulled my hand around her waist and moved close to me, resting her hand on my forearm. I put my other arm around her waist and she rested her other hand on my upper arm. She looked up at me with a huge smile.

"I didn't mind. It was very flattering."

With that, Megan leaned toward me, her hands slipping inside my arms and around my back.

We danced to several songs, all slow ones since it was getting late and the bar wasn't crowded. It was very nice. Megan's body moved gently against mine but not too tight. I didn't try to pull her closer though my hands did slipped onto her hips to rest across the top of her buttocks. Megan's only response was to move slightly closer and wiggle her face into my shoulder. I reveled in the brush of her ample breasts against my chest. We didn't stop dancing between songs and, though I'm not a dancer, I was quite disappointed when a faster song started up.

"Ok," Megan's laughter tinkled in my ears. "That's enough punishment for you." She turned and walked briskly away, leaving me on the floor with my eyes struggling to catch up to her intriguing skirt.

We left not long after that, both of us driving though neither of us should have. There was a magic moment as we exited the bar with Megan walking beside me, arm entwined in mine.

"Oh," she cried, stopping a dozen feet away from my car. "What am I doing?"

She laughed and looked back toward her car. I laughed too. Megan started to walk away then suddenly turned back, closed the distance between us in three quick steps, and leaned up to kiss me on my lips.

"Thanks, that was fun."

I watched her trot all the way to her car and nodded when she paused to smile and wave before getting inside, seeming to know I would be looking. I was still standing there when she backed out of her spot and drove away.

Yes, that was a night I thought about a lot, remembering her laugh and a conversation I couldn't quite put words to; the sway of her body, curve of her waist and pressure of her breasts; her perfume and the smell of her hair; and especially, the surprise she exhibited when she discovered herself following me as if it was natural that we would go home together.

I stood up to stretch and walked around my office. Looking out the window, I noticed that my car was the only one in the parking lot. Megan had left. With a quick nod and silent laugh to myself, I closed the venetian blinds and returned to my desk. I had a lot of work to catch up on.

No more daydreaming, I admonished myself.


Nevertheless, I was leaning back in my chair, swiveled around and staring at the blinded window daydreaming about Meagan again, when the click of the door startled me to my senses. I whirled around in my seat toward the door, fear subsiding as I realized it must be the cleaning staff and not a burglar.

"Megan!" my shock was evident when she breezed through the door. "I thought you'd left," I said, looking at my watch, realizing I had just made it obvious how aware I was of her presence.

I stifled the unreasonable spike of fear that what I had just been daydreaming about was also written my face. I wasn't sure whether Megan's smile was in response to my panicked reaction, my words, or my thoughts but my attention did refocus on the brown paper bags she was carrying as she walked briskly toward me.

"You must be hungry. I know I'm starved."

Megan deposited the two bags on my desk and began extracting white boxes and cylindrical containers, napkins, and forks, judicially placing them so they didn't mark any of the papers strewn over my desktop. I made extra room at the edge, moving papers to the other side and pushing the phone to the corner.

"We'll be hungry again in an hour," she joked.

"Megan, you shouldn't have. I mean, this is wonderful, but..."

She cut me off. "I heard about what you did today and I owe you."

"You heard... oh, that was nothing. George just goes overboard when he's already in a bad mood. Nothing would have happened. He probably forgot all about it ten minutes later. Don't worry about it."

"I know," Megan said, handing me a plastic fork, "but it wasn't 'nothing'."

I was about to continue my denying-the-hero role but Megan silenced me with a shake of her head and pulled a bottle of white wine from the bag and two real wine glasses wrapped in napkins. She passed the bottle for me to open. By the time I had accomplished that task, Megan had moved around to my side of the desk and wiggled her bottom onto the edge facing me.

I tried to start light conversation several times but Megan didn't respond. We ended up eating in silence, pausing only to sip our wine. As I ate, I realized how hungry I really was and was thankful for the opportunity to just eat. Part way through our 'dinner', Megan kicked her high heels off. As they thumped on the floor, she raised one stocking foot and placed it on the edge of my chair, causing me to swivel until I was directly facing her.

It was impossible for me to ignore Megan's legs and when she tipped her wine glass up for a drink I peeked into the darkness of her skirt though my eyes couldn't penetrate far.

"Can you pull the drawer out for me?"

"Huh?" "The drawer," she repeated. "So I can rest my foot on it."


I leaned forward to pull the draw open and Megan swung her left leg aside to make room for me. I was intensely aware that I could see right up her skirt and it looked like she had white panties on under her pantyhose. I pulled the big side drawer out and Megan put her foot down but didn't close her legs much. I leaned back just as she finished her last piece of sweet and sour pork and licked her fingers clean.

"Boy, that hit the spot. Man, I was hungry."

If that was a signal that conversation was welcome, it worked. We chatted away, pausing only to refill our glasses. When they were empty, Megan pulled another bottle from the bag and leaned forward to give it to me. I struggled to get it open and she laughed.

"Give it to me," she said, leaning back to work on it.

Megan had as much problem with the bottle as I did which made me happy only because I was able to admire her legs while her attention was diverted. That job was made much easier when she lifted her foot from the corner of my chair to rest it on the end of the arm, providing me with a wonderful view down the underside of both thighs. I found myself wishing she wasn't wearing pantyhose so I could see her bare flesh. Damn those things!

Megan finally got the bottle open and I had to avert my eyes while she refilled my glass.

"We really shouldn't drink anymore," she said.

"I know," I replied, taking a big sip to indicate what I thought of that suggestion.

Megan shifted her foot from the arm of my chair to the seat again but, this time, to the far side. Her other foot lifted from the top of the drawer to take a similar position on the near side of the chair. Megan was now sitting on the edge of my desk with her feet straddling my knees. She leaned forward.

"Do you have music in here?" she asked in a husky voice, not quite a whisper.


"Yes, music."

I glanced at the CD player atop the bank of drawers built into the one side of the office and Megan kicked my chair back. When I steadied my glass, she laughed even harder as we both saw that I had managed not to spill a drop. I got up, put my glass down on the desk behind my keyboard and went to find some music to play. When I turned around, Megan was standing, right hand held out to her side, dropping her pantyhose onto my empty chair.

"Let's dance," she said, stepping toward me.

"Dance?" I mumbled, glancing toward the door.

"There's nobody here. They've all gone home."


"Oh, you're such a worry wart," Megan laughed, turning away from me and walking to the door. She turned the deadbolt and it thudded home. Megan turned around and leaned against the door. Her left hand slid up the wall to the light switches and her fingers nudged them several times, each press dimming the lights. She pushed herself away from the door and took one step toward me before starting to remove her suit jacket. Three steps later she tossed it toward the upholstered chairs in front of my desk but it hit the side of the nearest one and slipped onto the floor. Megan ignored it, lifting her arms toward me.

Well, another chance to dance. How could I pass on that?

I took her into my arms, thanking my lucky stars that the only music in my office was light mood music. God, she felt good.

I don't know how long we danced. The songs were long and slow and one blended into another. I only know that my arms kept held her tighter than the magic night that spawned my daydreams and hers did the same to me. I didn't realize we were kissing until our faces pulled apart, gasping for breath. We didn't speak, just kept dancing, or should I say, swaying from side to side. I lowered my head and captured her lips again.

There wasn't a single We shouldn'tor other half-hearted denial as we continued to kiss and my hands began pulling her blouse out of her skirt. Instead of resisting, Megan unbuttoned her blouse and helped me remove it by shifting her shoulders and moving her arms to help it slip off. I kissed her and we started dancing again, really dancing, for the rest of the song and all of the next one. When it finished, my hands were cupping her bra and slipped around to undo it. Megan raised her arms and I slid the bra up and over her hands, then quickly dropped my hands to regain her now naked breasts.

"Kiss them," she breathed, arching her back and lifting her gifts toward my lips.

"Ahhhhh, that feels so good," she cooed as her stiff nipple poked through my lips and my tongue curled underneath. I sucked it into my mouth.

I kissed and nibbled her right breast as my hand fondled the left. Megan arched her back farther, her head stretched back and hair falling free behind her.

"Suck them hard, Tim."

I did. I moved my mouth from tit to tit, trying to hoover each one into my throat, my hand pulling her arched back toward me, lifting her tits into my face. Megan pulled her head up and ran her hand up and down the front of my pants.

"Is this for me?" she laughed throatily.

"If you're lucky," I growled.

"Oh, my. What a man," she howled uproariously.

I dropped my right hand from Megan's delicious tits, found the bottom of her skirt, and ran my hand slowly up between her legs, pausing near the top to clamp my cupped hand firmly on her puffy mound.

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