A Grand Reunion

Small silver chimes on the glass door tore the woman’s gaze from her computer screen. Characteristically, she did not hide the shock that overtook her previously focused expression. Behind the black frames of her small oval glasses, her brown eyes were cautious.

I never knew what to expect from her. Back in college, she was hardworking, but her emotions were wildly unpredictable—likely due to the stress she was under as a senior. I had helped her curb her unhealthy habits, encouraging her to stop drinking so much on the weekends, eat healthier, and sleep more. After graduation, all of that had become much easier for her, but as she secured a serious profession and her work began to pick up, we had lost touch, only texting now and again to check in.

Recently, I had seen an advertisement for her consultant services online while traveling through the area. The address was easy enough to find, and a quick phone call confirmed her presence. I didn’t leave my name; if she was anything like the girl I had met three years ago, she still loved surprises.

Yet, once I was there, everything about her made me doubt myself. She looked much older than I thought she would, though she was nearly ten years younger than me. Her office was immaculate, well-organized and evidently cleaned regularly. Small pieces of what she likely considered necessary décor—something to soften the environment—sat out of reach from her position inside the U-shaped mahogany desk. There were two chairs on the other side of the desk from her, welcoming clients to bring someone with them to the office. She looked professional, healthy, and well-kept. She wore a clean, loose white blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt.

The shock and caution left her gaze, replaced by the wide smile of the girl I’d known.

“So you are happy to see me,” I said, opening my arms as she came around the desk and leaned in for a hug. I tried not to notice the sweet smell of her hair as it brushed against the stubble on my chin. “You look so different,” I told her as she pulled back from the hug. So sexy, my mind added silently. “Are you wearing pantyhose?!” I felt the grin coming and didn’t bother trying to hide it. When my eyes found her shoes, I started laughing. “And heels?!”

She rolled her eyes at me, but I could see the blush blooming under a thin layer of makeup. Damn, she was beautiful. She was the perfect picture of a hot librarian. Even better, she owned this business. She was the sexy consultant, and she had mastered the look.

“Of course I am!” She replied, a hint of defensiveness in her tone. I could tell I’d disarmed her; surely her clientele treated her with much more respect, or maybe even awe.

“You look like a hot teacher,” I told her. “If my high school teachers had looked like you, I would have paid way more attention in class.” The blush darkened, just as I’d hoped. She was as easy to flatter and embarrass as she had always been.

“Ah, but I make much more here than I would as a teacher,” she informed me confidently, stepping back around the desk and reaching for the blazer on the back of her chair. The skirt tightened across her firm backside, and I couldn’t help but admire it for a moment before she turned back to me and my eyes returned to her small, heart-shaped face. Still, I couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that I’d seen no panty lines beneath the thin fabric. Did that mean she was wearing a thong under that skirt... or maybe nothing at all?

“I’m sure you do,” I replied, attempting to steer my thoughts back to our light conversation. “It seems like you’ve done very well for yourself here. I’m proud of you.”

I’d said the phrase to her before, but only over the phone. Just like her previous vocal replies, her physical response was unnerved and slightly defensive. She looked at me with her head dipped and a blush on her cheeks, biting her bottom lip as she muttered, “Thank you.”

I could imagine the woman most of her clients knew. She was strong, confident, a quick decision-maker. She made few mistakes and owned up to them quickly. She didn’t beat herself up over them anymore—at least, not in front of anyone. They likely saw her as an unshakeable, unstoppable force.

I, however, knew the girl she had been, and my presence brought back the feelings that had first drawn her to me; feelings of uncertainty and insecurity which had made her grateful for someone older who could guide her as she grew into the confident young woman she had become. She had deferred to me in many of her decisions, back then, and the impulse to do so again was clear.

“Ready to go?” She asked, sliding her blazer over the pale skin of one long arm, then the other. She had always been tall—5’8, if I remembered correctly—but she appeared even taller now, in her heels and business attire. If I did not know her so well, I would have been intimidated by her.

But I knew her secrets.

“Where are we going?” I returned in jest. I had come by shortly after noon on purpose, on the off-chance that she had let go of some of her workaholic tendencies and allowed herself to take a lunch once in a while.

“I was thinking burgers,” she replied, speaking my language. We both knew it wasn’t about the burgers; by now, she had been living here for at least two years and knew where to find the best fries and milkshakes. The burgers were simply the cover, the somewhat-respectable lunch option.

As expected, we both left our cheeseburgers half-finished and focused on the sides. I laughed at her as she dipped her fries in her vanilla milkshake, and she insisted I try it.

“I don’t think fries would taste good with chocolate ice cream,” I told her as she grinned childishly at me.

“Then try mine!” She said without hesitation, tipping her glass toward me. I looked in, where a piece of fry was floating in the now-mostly-melted shake. I cocked an eyebrow at her and shook my head. “No way, you’ve had your fingers in there! I don’t want to get cooties.”

She laughed and straightened her glass. “Suit yourself,” she said, shrugging. Then her eyes fixed on me and her lips fell into a smile I didn’t recognize on her. “I think you already have my cooties, though,” she said, subtly referring to an incident in a hotel room years ago. I dropped my gaze, lost for words for the first time since that night. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“So you still think about it too?” I interrupted, setting the typical lighthearted nature of our friendship aside. Clearly, I had stunned her. Her eyes still gave everything away, just as they had when we first met.

“I, um... sometimes.” She bit her lip, distracting me. She had crossed her long, toned legs under the table. “More often than I’d like to admit,” she added.

“Have you been with anyone since then?” I asked curiously, picking up a fry. She had lost her appetite. I had, too, but I welcomed the distraction from trying to read the myriad of emotions playing across her face.

“No one like you,” she answered vaguely, but I knew exactly what she meant. I knew everything; what she liked, what she didn’t, how to curl her toes... “What about you?”

I shook my head. She knew about me, too, how I’d become mostly disinterested in sex over time, and how to get me interested in it again. Today, without intending to, and without knowing I would show up, she had already checked most of the boxes off my list. I loved my women sophisticated, polite, and submissive. The glasses, the brown hair, and the tight, professional skirt were all driving me insane, and I could tell she was beginning to realize it. Perhaps she had known all along.

“Do you have any other appointments today?” Now it was her turn to shake her head. The top layer of her thick, neatly curled hair had been pulled back, so only the bottom ones hung free at her shoulders, shaking gently.

“Do you think you could put off some of your work until tomorrow?”

She bit her lip. “Probably.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.” Getting the idea, she answered with more confidence. “I need to run back to the office to close up. Where are you staying?”

“Never mind that. I’ll come with you.”

*

When I untied the curtains on either side of the glass door, they dropped easily into place and provided some shield from prying eyes. They were white, and I knew the summer sun would make them translucent so that shadows could be depicted through them, but somehow neither of us were too concerned about that. It took only a few moments for her to set her standard out-of-office phone and email messages, but impatience clouded my judgment of time. I no longer bothered to hide my long gazes at her chest and rear as she bent at the waist to reach her keyboard instead of sitting down.

“There,” she said, pulling off her blazer and returning it to its place on the back of her chair. “Now,” turning to face me, “where do you want me?” I gestured to the front side of the desk and slid the two chairs out of the way.

“I believe you said you prefer over-the-desk to over-the-knee?” I asked.

She sucked in a breath. “I can’t believe you remember that.” She whispered, bending over. I loved the way the fabric hugged her thighs and how her loose blouse hung low, revealing her cleavage. Her breasts were large and beautiful, just as I remembered. I moved around the desk and opened the bottom drawer. Despite our time apart, I knew what to look for, and I knew where to find it. There, under some papers, a thick wooden ruler paddle. After all this time, she still couldn’t help but stash seemingly innocent objects which were easily used as punishment implements around her home and office. This one was less well-disguised, since it had a handle and even a thin leather wrist strap on it; hence its place in the bottom drawer.

Her gaze met mine over the rim of her glasses as I closed the drawer. Coming around the desk, I gave her a quick, half-hearted swat with the ruler paddle.

“You know better than that,” I told her, keeping the wood against her skirt. “Take that off.”

She straightened and unzipped the skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She rolled her pantyhose down to her ankles, revealing a simple black thong as she bent. She looked quizzically over her shoulder at me as she looped her thumbs through either side of the black fabric, questioning whether she really had to remove it. I nodded, confirming she knew the answer. As she pulled the thong over her large, pale behind, I could not stop myself from staring. So sexy, my mind said again.

After removing all the clothing that was in my way, she reached up to the back of her hair and removed the clip holding the top two layers. She knew I would leave her looking disheveled and had apparently decided against hindering the process. Once she was done, she bent over again, pulling the hem of her white blouse over her hips, out of the way.

“Good girl,” I said, landing a smack with my bare hand. I had almost forgotten the necessity of warming up; for her sake, I was glad I had remembered. I stiffened my hand gradually, slapping her rear several times. She said nothing, at first, but began to make small noises as the sting increased. Once both sides of her ass were a light pink color, I lifted the wooden ruler paddle from the desk and pressed it against her bare skin.

“Are you ready?” I asked as she took a deep breath. She nodded. I drew it back slowly, then brought it forward fast. It connected with a sharp crack!

“Ahh!” She yelped, and my heart raced. Too hard? But she stayed in position, now gripping the edge of the desk. I knew I had to decide whether to stay firm or lighten up with her. Normally, I knew what she wanted, but I was out of practice. Should I ask if she was ok, or would that ruin the moment? I decided to risk it.

“Are you ok?” I asked gently.

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly.

“Then spread your legs.”

She did as I asked, and I drew the paddle back again before stopping.

“Unlock your knees,” I told her, once again falling into the role of taking care of her, knowing she could hurt herself if she tensed up in that position. She did as I asked, but I could practically feel her rolling her eyes at me.

“Yes, sir,” She said teasingly, turning again to look at me over her shoulder. Crack! The surprise registered before the pain and she looked forward again. “Aahh!”

I alternated sides and occasionally hit her across both cheeks, the paddle cracking loudly against her firm ass. After a few hits, I lowered the paddle and began stroking her skin where it had reddened. When I moved my hand between her thighs, she began to sigh softly. Feeling the wetness there, I slid my forefinger inside her, then ran it up along her clit, eliciting a moan. I continued to stroke her and her breath grew heavier. When she moaned again, I withdrew, raising the paddle again. Her moan turned into a pout, but I knew her greatest orgasms came from being teased first.

She had told me once that pain tolerance increases until orgasm. Knowing she was much more aroused than before, I tested this, spanking her harder on her sit spot.

“Ohh, yes,” she said, widening her legs more. I could see the moisture between her thighs, now. She pressed herself against the desk, and I knew she was stimulating her clit.

“Naughty girl,” I said, reaching around her waist and feeling her moistened labia with my fingers. She moaned again, and again I spanked her harder.

“Mmm yes, more,” she said, and I pressed the tips of my fingers against her opening. Her pitch rose, “Ohh, don’t stop!” I kept spanking her while rubbing her clit, and I heard her beg, “Please...!” As she did, I thrust my fingers into her, feeling her g-spot while the palm of my hand pressed against her clit. I spanked her hard again on her sit spot, and as I did so, I felt the warm wetness of her cum running over my fingers and down my hand.

When I withdrew my fingers and began rubbing her clit again, her moans were softer and more content than needy as they had been before. The need rose again, though, and she began gyrating against my fingers, her body begging for more. To her frustration, I pulled my hand away.

I moved quickly, and once my clothes were off, I leaned forward, pressing into her. Since she was soaked already, I entered her easily, and her eagerness drove me further inside her than I had intended at first. However, knowing she liked it rough, I followed her lead and took hold of her curled brown hair, my other hand gripping her hip as I thrust hard. I pounded her against the desk, and as I felt her tighten again around me, the pleasure overtook me and I came inside her.