Boss Lady

byDuggerPlus©

I could feel the heat from four feet away in her small office at the entrance to the OR department. Each time, Marjorie Whitcomb took a deep breath, I watched her medium sized chest rise and her nipples protrude stiffly against the flimsy material of her scrub shirt. Pink was her color. It was the middle of summer and she wasn't wearing a half slip to keep warmer. How nice for me.

Her strong back was to me. I fought the urge to reach out and grip her shoulders firmly and knead her desired flesh strongly, like a masseuse with all of the time in the world to please his very beautiful client. Another whiff of her perfume caught my nostrils. Male enhancement alert! Male enhancement alert! Now I had to shift in my chair so when she turned back around, she wouldn't see that I was surfboard stiff for her.

Actually, when I was first introduced to her over a year ago, it wasn't her body that snapped its claws around my heart. It was her crystal clear blue eyes. When she smiled, the skin crinkled in a delightful way and the sparkle of possibility radiated like a heat-seeking missile toward my soul.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard like she knew what she was doing. Marjorie, who preferred to be called Margie, was fine-tuning a report I had written concerning a policy that we had to bring current for the state inspectors who were expected any minute. It was crunch time and we were at the end of a long work day. The evening shift was in the OR proper still finishing up the day's schedule, and whatever add-on cases that the surgeons had deemed emergent to be done outside of the regular work day.

Her blonde head went slowly left to right. More scent, more male enhancement.

"Barry, what were you thinking when you wrote this?" she said, with a laugh as light as real angel hair and just as delightful. "Look at this." Her left hand, adorned with a wedding ring the size of a small NATO country, waved me closer.

I had to stop myself from lunging forward. My hands steadied myself on the back of her office chair inches from her warm skin. Images of sliding my hands from the chair to her back, deliberately, just to see what she would do teased the pleasure centers of my mind. A slap met my cheek with malice aforethought. Her voice sounded in the seashells I used as ears.

"Barry? Barry?" she said, snapping me back from wonderland to the present. "Are you all right?"

My throat was hoarse, and drier than a litter box at the Amur tiger exhibit at the local zoo. I cleared my throat. "Yes, just drifted off for a second." My enhanced member pressed against the back of her chair. It wanted to fight its way through the upholstered padded metal to her soft backside that jiggled slightly when she walked down the hall.

"Do you see where I corrected your thinking here?" asked Marjorie, half turning back towards me and her shoulder rubbed against my forearm and lingered.

Concentrate my boy, concentrate. "I do. But you left something out," I replied. And without thinking I leaned forward to point at the large computer screen, brushing my forearm along her shoulder near her neck. She didn't move and almost leaned into my arm as if caressing it with her cheek.

My arm went numb as the throbbing between my legs took on a salsa beat. I found myself grinding it against the back of her chair. The faint reflection of her face in the screen told me she was tired. A yawn lazily appeared and faded fast.

"Boss, we can do this tomorrow," I said, gently sliding my arm back along her shoulder and against her cheek.

"Unfortunately, we can't. St. Mary's said the inspectors will be there tomorrow. That leaves only two hospitals left, kiddo," said the director of peri-operative services. "And with our luck, we'd be next."

"Agreed. It's just that you look so tired," I said. My eyes were fixed on her breasts rising and falling with each lovely breath. I spied her pink lace bra, clasp in the front, a C cup or C plus. Was that her nipple I saw?

My hands on her chair moved forward so they pressed against her back. Either Marjorie hadn't noticed or didn't care. Probably the former, hopefully the latter. Now she was rubbing her eyes. A knock on the door caused me to snap to attention. A tall, lanky brunette with a Dorothy Hamill wedge popped her head in.

"Margie, I'm headed for dinner. Dietrich is in charge. Only two rooms running, a gall bladder and a tib-fib fracture," she reported.

"Thanks Holly. No need to check in again. We're going to be up to our project folders in here."

Holly nodded and stole a glance at the bulge beneath my belt. Her smile widened. "Okay, enjoy," she said, adding a wink for me. Heat flushed my face. I sat back down abruptly.

My boss sipped her ever-present tea then nibbled like a bunny on a granola bar.

"Yuck," I sad.

"Oh, pshaw, Barry. You don't know anything about eating healthy," she said.

Eating you would certainly be a treat, I thought. She had returned to the screen. I rubbed my wrist against my hard-on. I wanted to do more. I needed to do more. I wanted her to do it.

Excusing myself, I barely made it into the men's room stall with a tube of water-soluble surgical lubricant. A thick stream went from the crown down along the thickening shaft. I dropped the tube to the tile floor, grabbed my rod and closed my eyes. Marjorie Whitcomb and I were in the woods somewhere on a blanket by a gurgling stream. Her soft, glowing body was swathed in a pastel-pink bikini. I was adorned in the requisite gym shorts. The sun cascaded down between the high tree leaves and onto our little oasis.

"It's gotten hotter," she said.

I took her hand and she got to her feet and followed along obediently. We splashed our bare feet into the middle of the stream. She shivered. Her nipples tried to break free of the thin Lycra cup of her bikini top. On a lower shelf in the stream, an eddy formed. I sat her down in the middle of the swirling water. It was deep enough to rise just above her breasts. I sat on a flat rock immediately behind her, placing a leg on either side of her.

Her hair was longer, in a pony tail exposing the string tie at her neck. "Just relax, Marjorie. Close your eyes and let the running water wash over your mind, floating your worries and cares away. I'll do the rest," I said, near her ear.

My hand untied the string. She gasped and grabbed the top before it could fall completely off. Both of my hands covered hers, wedding ring and all.

"Barry, you do know I'm married," she said back over her shoulder.

"Yes," I removed my hands, got to my feet and walked back over to the blanket. My back was to my boss yet she could probably sense my disappointment.

"Where are you going?" she called to me.

"I told you at the beginning, Mrs. Whitcomb, that if you changed your mind, I would stop. You did. I did," I said, in flat line tones.

"Barry," she said. When no more was forthcoming, I turned to look at her. Her small hands left her breasts taking the bikini top as well. It was my turn to gasp. Perfect nipples, rounds mounds of flesh waiting to be caressed.

I started toward her when my name sounded in my ears.

"Barry, please return to Margie's office," was the announcement.

"Yeouch," I said, with both hands full of my desire for her. No time to finish now. I wiped the lube off as best I could and headed back to her office as the dead run.

Marjorie Whitcomb was slouched back in her chair, begging to be kissed. At least that was my thought.

"I'm exhausted. Need a break. Dinner?" she asked.

My watch gave bad news. "Cafeteria's closed."

"Get your coat. I know a place," she said, pulling on her lab coat, her name and RN, MS, CNOR stitched in red above her left breast pocket.

She drove and we ende3d up at Smokey Val's, a rib joint that Margie said was her little secret. We ordered, talked shop, and small chit chat.

"So how does the health care bill affect us?" I asked, keeping the chat as neutral as possible. I surely didn't want her to know this felt like a date to me.

"No clue. Look, I'm sorry to keep you up so late. It must screw up your social life," she said.

"It would if I had one," I replied.

"I thought you were dating that divinity student, um, I forgot her name."

"Emily. She left a couple of months ago. We had different views on," I paused.

"On what?" she asked, wiping her soft lips when I could have done it just as good with my tongue.

I could never lie to her. She engendered immediate trust. "On types of intimacy." Her eyebrows arched looking for more. I continued. "How to put this? She and Oedipus didn't see eye to eye."

Margie hesitated in mid-chew and looked up at me. "Oh, I didn't mean to pry."

"Not your fault. Just understand that if you ask me a question, you'll get an honest, unvarnished answer," I said, quickly filling my face with French fires so as not to cross a line.

"I see. Are you dating?"

"No."

"Any prospects?" she inquired.

Besides you? I thought. "No. Breaking up is too painful to do."

"What do you do for companionship?" asked my boss.

"Have business dinners with my boss," I said, adding a smile. My boss smiled back, but it seemed more serious.

"I didn't mean to pry," she said, signaling for the check.

"Margie, I have no secrets from you," I said then snatched the check. "My treat."

She smiled. "My expense account thanks you, kind sir."

**



Two days later, I was hard at work with the paperwork of my own department within the OR when I was again summed to the boss' office.

"What's up?" I said. Her face was drawn.

"Come in and close the door, please," she said. Under her lab coat was a spring, button- down blouse of lime-green which was opened at the neck to frame a silver crucifix. Black slacks, razor creases down the legs, stopping just above her square heeled, black shoes that bought instant thoughts of hearing them click across the wooden floor completed her ensemble. "I wanted to apologize for the other night."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

She lowered her eyes and smiled demurely. I wasn't sure, but I thought that she might have been two or three years older than me. It's not like I cared. My lust for her on a scale of one to ten was at twelve and climbing. Melting in her embrace might not be a great career move; however, did I really care?

"It's sweet of you to forgive me. I promise I won't be nosy again." Mrs. Whitcomb extended her right hand which I took in both of mine.

"To you, I'll always be an open book. Never doubt that," I said, letting our hands linger together. She reddened briefly.

"Thanks, Barry. Can we finish the report tomorrow night, after work?"

I had scheduled an evening at the ball park because the local Triple-A affiliate was hosting the farm club of my favorite team. Long time planned though it was, I didn't hesitate.

"Of course, I'll look forward to it."

This time the OR schedule was so crowded, it was closer to nine before we got started. Just before midnight, we took a break. Both highly caffeinated, we toasted each other with coffee and cherry-flavored cola. My boss sighed and her shoulders slumped.

"Tell you what. You sit at my desk and proof read. I'll catch a power nap in the chair. Wake me if you need me, deal?"

"Deal," I said and placed my backside on the still warm seat where her nicely rounded rear end had been. A few minutes later, I paused at a correction point. "Boss? Boss?"

Looking back over my shoulder, my lust spilled over into something not so sexual but just as explosive. Her breathing was content. Her face was as calm as an Olympic sized pool of jell-o. I covered her with my lab coat and went back to work.

Now the clock was closing in on two am. I had reached another impasse, one I couldn't finesse myself around.

"Margie?" I said. "Boss?" No response. I leaned back and stroked her wrist. She stretched like a cat awakening, grabbing my hand with her free one. Those blue eyes were still closed, but she brought my hand to her lips and kissed it several times, lightly, adding flick of her tongue as she finished. "Boss?"

Her eyelids flew open and Margie sat bolt upright. Curiously, she didn't let go of my hand. No problem there.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry. I must have dozed off. What time? Oh my, have I been asleep that long?"

"Um, yes. Sorry to have to wake you up but I ran into a problem."

"Show me," she said.

"To do that, I'll need both hands," I said. She looked down, blushed again, and then let go.

"Barry, did I do anything, or say anything while I was asleep?" she asked.

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

A sigh of relief and the bounce returned to her voice. A smile shone through. The flush of red was nowhere to be seen. Of course, if my boss had looked between my legs, she would have seen a very persistent bulge I had been stroking to the rhythm of her breathing.

Would I ever have the nerve to tell her?

**



The next week was taken up by the state inspectors going through the hospital with a fine tooth comb. They looked into every nook and cranny as well as places I didn't even know existed. My boss spent a lot of time with the, so I saw considerably less of her than I wanted to.

A month later, we learned that we had passed the state inspection with flying colors. Marjorie sprung for a pizza and wings party as a staff thank you. Jokes, songs and general silliness ensued with our elation at an all time high. The dragon had been slain.

As I was ingesting another piece of pizza, the boss came up tome and asked me to come to her office after the party. When I got there, she closed the door and produced two bottles of ginger ale.

"I know you don't drink," she said, "so I got these." Paper cups were filled. Toasts were made and then the glasses were empty. "Truthfully Barry, I couldn't have succeeded with all of this without all of your help and countless hours of it at that."

"Shucks, ma'am," I said channeling Gary Cooper. "Twarn't nothing."

Her arms encircled me and her head rested against my chest. My pulsating heart would no doubt deafen her. Those delicate hands were flat against my back, oozing energy into me with each stroke of my spine.

I came to my senses quickly and hugged her back. Not an old math teacher or distant relative who smelled of liniment, but of one dear friend to another trying to convey the wish that there was more.

"Really, thank you," she said, and placed her lips against my cheek.

Hope, among other parts of my anatomy, sprung eternal. I kissed her cheek in turn then planted my lips gently onto hers, softly, but firmly, and held them there waiting for the slap that never came. Margie pulled her head slowly back, savoring our coupling. Her eyes were still closed. She seemed a bit out of breath.

"Marjorie, I," I stammered.

Her eyes were still closed. Her fingers touched my lips. "Sssh, Barry. I may not be a blood relative, but I am a mother."

Marjorie's hand engaged the office door's deadbolt lock then flipped the light switch to off. I felt her hands at my waist, pulling the drawstring loose. My scrub pants slipped to the floor. Her warm hands caressed my thighs, then my inner thighs. She moaned, low but determined. Fingers invaded my waistband, sliding my jockeys out of the way, all of ht way down to my ankles. Her hot breath excited all of the flesh between my legs.

She gripped my growing cock firmly and started to stroke. "Just enjoy," she whispered. I felt the wetness of the inside of her mouth envelope my rod. She gently sucked all of the way down, and I mean all of the way down.

Her hands caressed my ass, squeezing in tempo with her sliding up and down my shaft. She gently sucked all of the way down each time.

"Fuck Mommy's mouth, baby. Come on, do me." My boss' lips closed harder around me. I pumped into her mouth faster and faster. She met every thrust with a flick of her tongue on the shaft. My hands rubbed her head as I wanted to ram it in to the back of her throat and let loose.

Both of her hands gripped my ass for the final act. Fingernails dug into my skin. "Swallow me, all of me!" It was not a request.

Marjorie nodded and didn't miss a beat. I couldn't stop the flow. It gushed as the tip of my cock touched the back of her throat. Spurt after spurt, three times before the urgency subsided. She held me in the entire time.

Slowly, Marjorie stood, redressed my lower half and switched on the light. A bit of my cum was at the corner of her mouth. Her errant finger scooped it up and savored it like a bon-bon. A smile arrived shortly thereafter.

"Feel better baby?" she asked, with a caress of my cheek with the back of her hand.

Only the cold metal of her wedding ring kept me from telling her I loved her.

The End

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