Caught

It was after hours and the lights from one end of the office to the other were dimmed.

Stuart watched with unrestrained glee as Yvette slowly walked toward him through the dimness, each step a study in eroticism.

Yvette worked in the accounting department at his office. She was in her forties, but looked much younger. Her face had the typical moon-like qualities of most Asian women, but her deep dark eyes and wide mouth set her apart. She was dressed in a snow-white blouse with a filigree pattern sewn into it. It was buttoned to her neck and perfectly reflected the conservative attire her profession demanded. Her mini-skirt, a dark blue, seeming almost black, was a different story altogether.

It reached past her well-rounded bum, but extended only about six inches below that. Her bare legs were on full display from her thighs down to her feet. The high-heeled shoes she wore accentuated the motion of her hips when she walked. Stuart had often been beguiled by the sight of her walking away.

Now she was walking toward him. She unfastened one button from her blouse with each step, making her way across the room to the desk where he sat. By the time she reached the side of his chair her shirt was completely undone; her silk chemise beneath it hid the curve of her breasts, but only barely.

Already he could see her nipples puckered into hardness as they poked against the light fabric. He thought he could make out the darker color beneath the camisole but he couldn't be sure.

As she reached his side she reached for his hand. Ever so slowly she guided it to her left breast. She sighed and grinned as his hand closed over it. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes as he kneaded the soft flesh, reveling in the fullness while softly pinching the nipple through the silk.

She took two small steps forward, trapping his leg between hers. She was small enough that her upper thighs were now almost straddling his knee. Her mini-skirt folded up toward her pubis, the hemline pushing against the gusset of her panty as she slowly lowered herself to rest fully on his thigh.

Her hips slowly rocked forward and back against his leg as he continued fondling both of her tits. He was now using both hands and he hastily pushed her silk chemise up to her chin.

He was rocked back with shock when she swatted his hands away and then admonished him with a pointed finger.

"Unh-uh," she murmured softly with a shake of her head as the camisole dropped back to cover her breasts. It fell down to just below her breasts leaving her tummy exposed.

Stuart dropped his hands to his side and she smiled broadly as she saw his acquiescence.

With agonizing slowness, she began undoing the buttons on his shirt. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally had it open and she pushed the sides outward to expose his stomach and chest.

She placed a fingertip softly against one of his nipples and traced a gentle circle around it. It hardened under her touch and she let out a soft giggle. She deftly leaned forward and ran her tongue over it; just once.

Stuart groaned at the intimate touch and then whined softly when she stopped.

Again Yvette grinned as she exerted her complete control over the situation.

She leaned forward against him then, her left thigh pushing hard against his groin and her breasts, still covered by her chemise, thrust against his chest.

"Do you want to make love to me?" she whispered against his earlobe.

Stuart nodded. He couldn't speak, his throat felt far too tight.

"Do you want to see me naked?" she said with a soft giggle and then nipped his ear with her teeth.

"Oh God yes!" he stammered.

She giggled again and kissed his neck and then playfully ran her tongue up to his earlobe.

"Put your hand under my camisole," she said.

He carefully put his trembling hand against her belly and slowly moved it up to cup her tit. She sighed when he touched her nipple and pushed her thigh harder against his groin.

"Put your other hand in my panties," she whispered.

Stuart swallowed hard again and moved his other had under her skirt. As he moved up to the waistband he realized she was soaking wet. The dampness had permeated her panty and the aroma wafted up to him when he slipped his fingers into her matted pubic hair.

She sighed and groaned as his fingers slipped between her labia. She moved her hips against his hand and drove the rhythm of his movement.

"Show me your cock!" she gasped as she ground against him.

He moved his hand from her breast and tried awkwardly to undo his slacks. Again she swatted his hand away, but this time it was not in a playful manner. She was all business as she determinedly opened his belt, snap and zipper.

Stuart yelped slightly when she roughly grasped his shaft and pulled it out into the open.

Brian saved the document to his on-line account and grinned in satisfaction at what he had just written. He wanted to take a little break before continuing the story.

He had been writing erotic short stories for ages now. He posted them to Literotica for his own enjoyment. He certainly wasn't getting paid for them; although he read somewhere that some of the authors had managed to publish for money. He just didn't know how to "join the club" so to speak.

Even though he didn't get paid for them, he got enormous satisfaction from the comments people would sometimes leave after reading them. He also followed the ratings scores on his stories, privately simmering when they didn't at least get a 4.00; 4.50 and above usually made him smile.

His job was such that he could devote a few minutes some days to adding passages to his works from time to time. In addition to that, there were a few women in his workplace that he modeled his characters on, sometimes with very detailed descriptions of their appearance or mannerisms that would leave little doubt about whom he was writing if they knew them.

In particular, there were two or three women in his current workplace that he had written about. Of course, all of his writings were his own imaginings. He'd had many wonderful fantasies about the women there and he tried not to look at them differently after writing a juicy chapter where they were the star. It didn't always work out, but mostly, he hadn't outright offended anyone; at least until now.

The woman in the scene he had just written was based on one of the accountants in his office; a very curvy and eternally friendly Asian woman named Evelyn. After saving it he was convinced he had closed the document before getting up to use the washroom.

He returned to see her sitting at his desk with her eyes glued to the computer monitor.

He creased his brow and frowned, wondering why she looked so engrossed in whatever she was looking at. She didn't seem to notice he was approaching until just before he rounded the corner of his cubicle. Without turning her head toward him, he saw her flip from one screen to an excel sheet full of expense lists he was preparing for her.

She got up from his chair and gave him a strange look as she turned. She was flushed bright red and she wouldn't meet his eyes when she looked his way.

"How long til you get those expenses to me?" she said in a queer low voice. "I'll need them before month-end on Thursday."

"Should be tomorrow morning," he said, "maybe even end of day today."

"Okay, good," she said and brushed past him quickly as she left his cubicle.

She didn't look back at him, but he could tell something was bugging her. Even though he knew she was upset, he couldn't help but stare as she walked away, her curvy bum swinging back and forth with every footfall. Her tight mini-dress offered a very good view of those hips and her high heels accentuated the motions of her hips considerably.

After a moment he turned toward his monitor. He used the shift-tab key combination to see what screen she had flipped from. He was horrified to see the steamy passage he had just finished writing. His description of Yvette, the Asian accountant who always wore figure-hugging mini-dresses and high heels to work was a dead giveaway and he knew with certainty he was caught.

He swallowed hard and looked up just in time to see her scowling at him before she disappeared into the next office space.

The rest of that day was a long one. The whole day he kept waiting to get the dreaded email or phone call summoning him to the general manager's office.

He did manage to get his expense reports to Evelyn. He went through them twice to make sure they were complete before he emailed the document to her. She did not respond or acknowledge getting them.

By the time quitting time came, his stomach was churning and he had what felt like a permanent migraine lodged behind his eyeballs.

With one last look toward the manager, who didn't seem to even notice him as he threw his coat on, he scurried out of the building to his car. After he closed the car door he realized he was breathing heavily and felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

He barely remembered the drive home as his mind was clogged with images of getting fired, being publicly humiliated or both.

************************************************************

After a sleepless night he went into work the next day, still expecting to be called into his boss's office. If the expression on Evelyn's face had been anything to go by, she was furious with him and was bound to report him.

"She's probably waiting to cool off a bit before she reports me," he thought to himself.

The day went by without any urgent notices for him to appear before the boss. Still the term "sword of Damocles" wound its way eternally through his head the whole day.

The next day he still hadn't gotten any hint that trouble was coming his way and he began to relax a little. By the end of the week he was pretty sure he was in the clear.

Just before his departure on Friday afternoon he took a trip to the washroom. As he turned the corner toward the men's room he saw Evelyn falling in behind him on her way to the ladies room directly opposite the men's.

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked her in the eye, searching for any hint of her state of mind. She returned his stare and brushed past him without saying anything. He sighed quietly and turned to go into the men's. He stopped when she spoke.

"Do you have a lot of spare time?" she said coldly with her almost flawless English, standing halfway in the opened door.

He cleared his throat before speaking but didn't get a chance.

"You must!" she said. "I know I don't have time to write like that at work."

Brian struggled to find something to say but she closed the door and then he was alone.

The drive home that night was filled with so many thoughts he almost had at least two accidents.

************************************************************

Monday came and Evelyn continued with her aloof and frigid attitude. By now he regretted what he had written, not because of being caught, but because he had lost the easy camaraderie they had shared before this.

Until last week she was always friendly and smiling. He noticed now that she seemed to have lost that outgoing familiarity with everyone. She no longer wore the same pleasant smile that all in the office had gotten used to seeing on her and she seemed to have withdrawn into herself.

Brian felt terrible. He wanted to say something to her but what could he say? "Sorry I wrote a sex story about you," didn't seem like it would improve her attitude toward him or his situation at work. In fact, it would probably make things much worse.

He went through his duties that day and the days that followed. He did not add anymore passages to his story, not even from home. He was considering deleting the story but he had already put several hours of writing into it and he was sure it wouldn't matter much to her even if he told her he did. Would she even believe him?

On Thursday he was in the office kitchen washing his hands. Evelyn came in as he pulled a paper towel down and she studied him momentarily with an expression he couldn't read. Then she went to the refrigerator.

"At least she's not scowling at me anymore," he thought to himself.

He stood for a moment after tossing the towel in the bin, trying to gather up the courage, and more importantly the words, to say something to her.

"Are you still writing?" she asked with her back to him, bent over to retrieve her lunch from one of the lower shelves.

Brian tried studiously to avoid looking at her bum as she was bent over so he looked back at the paper towel dispenser instead.

"Not lately," he said as casually as he could muster.

She looked over her shoulder at him with one eyebrow raised. Brian turned to face her just in time to catch it. Her face gave nothing away.

"No wonder they say the Chinese are inscrutable!" he thought to himself. "It's like trying to read a basilisk!"

"How come?" she asked as she placed her meal in the microwave.

"How come what?" he asked, having lost track of the conversation completely.

She snickered, seemingly without humor, and poured some fruit from a small container onto a plate.

"Why did you stop writing?" she said, enunciating the words slowly as if she were talking to a toddler.

Brian felt like a toddler at this very minute. Several responses flitted through his head, tumbling over each other in their haste.

"Um," was all he managed to get past his lips before he forcefully closed his mouth.

"Is it because of me?" she asked without looking his way as she prepared her noon meal.

"Um," he stammered.

"Did you stop because I was reading on your computer?" she said her facial expression still impossible to interpret.

"Kind of," he said as a deep red blush rose to color his neck and face.

She straightened herself up and looked him in the eye.

"It was wrong you know," she said flatly.

Brian looked at the floor and pursed his lips. He knew she was right and he was trying to say something, anything, to let her know that, but no words would come out.

"You shouldn't be using your time at work like that," she said in a scolding tone.

Brian waited for more. He was waiting for her to tell him what a violation it was, how thinking of her in the way the character in his story behaved was perverted and wicked. He waited, but she had stopped talking.

He looked at her again and saw that she didn't seem to be angry; at least not angry in the way that someone about to call Human Resources would look.

"You do know you're wasting company time, don't you?" she said just as the microwave announced her dinner was ready.

She pulled the meal out of the oven and carefully spooned the contents of the dish onto her plate.

"Is that the only reason you were upset with me?" he asked, his heart suddenly beating quickly. He felt that panic attack bubbling near the fringes of his consciousness and swallowed.

She sighed heavily and shifted from foot to foot for a moment.

"When I read that thing," she began as a pinkish blush began to form on her chest and neck, "I was, um, quite surprised to see it on your, um, computer at work!"

The flush of her skin contrasted sharply with the bone colored button-down blouse she was wearing.

"I thought to myself that it was very inappropriate for the workplace," she said.

Her eyes were on the floor, on the table where her plate sat and on the wall over Brian's head; anywhere but on him.

She sighed again and seemed to be steeling herself to go on. Finally she refocused on him.

"It was the wrong place to be doing that," she said, "although, I thought the writing was, um, pretty good."

Brian blinked in surprise. He blinked two or three times.

"What?" he said quietly.

"I sometimes, um, read some novels," she said with hesitation. "Novels that, um, I wouldn't, um, recommend for my daughter to read."

Brian leaned back against the door. He was sure he was about to begin laughing hysterically; not a laugh that you let out when something is funny, but a laugh you utter right after they shut the door to the padded room behind you.

"What?" he repeated ineptly.

She blushed even more fiercely and coughed.

"Your story was, um, well written," she said as her throat appeared to be closing down on her. "There were a lot of words in there that I wouldn't use, but, um, you seem to be good at, um, composition."

Brian looked at her as his confusion suddenly began to dissipate.

"Are you saying," he said carefully, "You liked it?"

She pressed her lips tightly together for a moment and shifted from foot to foot again.

"I thought it was," she paused for a second or two which felt like hours to Brian, "you have a talent for writing," she said and then expelled a large breath.

Brian was dumbfounded. He stood staring at her, trying to find the words to say; something he was having a lot of difficulty with these past few minutes.

"Hello!" Serena said as she entered the room.

Serena was the girl who worked with Evelyn. She too was Chinese but slightly younger and much skinnier than her.

"See you later," Evelyn said to Brian, and then squeezed past him through the door and returned to her desk.

Brian tried not to stare after her, instead nodding and smiling at Serena before going back to his own desk.

************************************************************

Working for the rest of that day was impossible. He was no longer worried about being reported for writing erotic stories at work. Instead his mind was working overtime trying to work out his conversation with Evelyn.

"She said she liked it!" he thought. "Did she like it because the writing was good, or did she like it because she thought it was hot?"

"Or maybe," the thought process continued, "she liked it because she knew it was about her."

Over and over these contemplations flitted back and forth all day. By quitting time he realized he hadn't accomplished a single thing.

He went home and tried his best to forget about the events of the day. That night in his dreams he had the same conversation with Evelyn in the kitchen, only this time she was completely naked throughout. He kept trying to speak with her but every time he opened his mouth he could do nothing but stammer as he was overwhelmed with the sight of her unclothed body.

************************************************************

Friday was the longest day he could remember in a long time.

He kept trying to get glimpses of Evelyn all day, but she seemed to be chained to her desk; she didn't come out once.

Still, her comments about his story continued to fill his mind as her tried to work. By the end of the day he still hadn't accomplished much. He was becoming obsessed.

He was about to shut down his computer when a new email popped up on his screen.

-Do you think I could read a copy of your story? Send it to my personal email.

-Evelyn

There was a link to a Gmail account below the signature.

Brian studied the message and looked up in time to see Evelyn delivering a file to his boss's desk. She looked straight at him as she approached the desk and smiled.

He watched her with wide eyes as she turned to his boss, dropped off the file and walked away. As always he couldn't help but stare at her hips. Her short skirt didn't do much to hide anything as her bum swayed from side to side. She turned and looked back over her shoulder at him and smiled more broadly as she saw him checking her out.

He watched the doorway long after she disappeared through it and then hastily opened his own personal email. He copied the link to her account into the send line and then dragged and dropped the Word document into it. He hit send before he could change his mind.

He then went home with visions of Evelyn dancing around his brain.