Crossing Lines

🗓 Wednesday, April 30, 1952

She glanced in the mirror once more, starting at her feet and working up. Her navy blue heels were buffed and polished; her beige stockings were immaculate and without any runs. Thigh highs were new to the fashion world, but she was quite pleased with their look and feel. Her navy high waisted, full coverage panties felt much more comfortable without stockings holding everything together. She had opted for 2 petticoats of white today under her baby blue swing dress - freshly pressed and without any wrinkles. The skirt had a nice volume but would still be relatively comfortable for a long day sitting at her desk.

She adjusted the navy blue ribbon tied in a bow around her waist so that the bow was off centre to the left. The crew neck cut of the dress afforded her quite a bit of modesty but she found delight in the shoulder cap sleeves; they made her think that they were peek-a-boo made tangible. A soft giggle accompanied her smile. She pressed on the backs of her silver heart earrings to ensure that they wouldn't come off and turned her head this way and that to make sure that her nicely twisted hair was in place. She felt that the blue daisy in her hair looked smashing against the chestnut brown of her hair and the warm hazel of her eyes. Satisfied, she left the bathroom and rang for the elevator.

In short order, the doors were parted by the usual elevator operator. He wasn't a white man but, despite this, he had caught her eye on more than one occasion. He was bald with a beautifully symmetric oval face. He had warm brown eyes, and the fullest, softest looking lips she had ever seen. There was a soft spattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks. He wore the uniform of the company, so she couldn't guess with accuracy what lay under the layers of fabric, but he looked to be quite fit. His black shoes were polished and shining, his black pants tailored and pressed. His white shirt brought out his beautiful caramel skin tones and the black bow tie drew her eye to his broad shoulders. As it was still early in the day, he was still wearing the black uniform jacket with polished gold buttons and gold stitching.

"Miss," his voice was deep when he spoke, his head nodding politely as he let her onto the lift. "What floor?"

"Four please," she responded, watching his large strong hand reach out to control the machinery. He closed the door and, she realised with a start, she was alone in the lift with him. If she was going to be bold, this was the chance. And it might be the only chance she got.

"Say, what's your name?" Her voice was soft and timid. The flash of his eyes over his shoulder suggested that she had surprised him with this question.

"It's Lee, miss," he supplied after a moment's pause.

"I'm Nicole," she volunteered. "Are you circled?" she asked, needing to hear more of his voice.

"Naw, miss. Just me for the moment; haven't found a lady friend yet." Another moment's pause as his eyes caught and held hers, daring and bold. "Yourself?"

She smiled shyly. "No, Mister Lee. I ain't got a man in my life." The elevator stopped on her floor but, before he could open the doors, her hand shot out and landed on his right forearm. "Wontcha come up to my desk at noon and see me? The bosses all are going out for lunch - you'll see them leave. Come see me when they are gone." A moment held frozen, a heartbeat stretched out, an unexpected footbridge across the chasm of segregation. His arm felt warm beneath her hand despite the fabric separating their skin and she gazed brazenly into his beautiful eyes.

"Nicole..." her name on his lips sent heat to her core and her teeth caught her bright red lower lip, lipstick be damned. A soft smile tugged up the corners of his lips as he whispered, "I'll see you later." She released his arm as he opened the lift and she stepped out onto the busy office floor.

...

As the final men from the floor filed into the elevator, she caught Lee's eye and her pulse quickened. What was she doing? Fraternizing with coloureds .... while at work. She could be fired for this indiscretion. But, despite that, she wanted him. God, did she want him. Her panties were wet and the throbbing in her core urged her on and stoked her confidence. He had danced through her thoughts all morning and she hadn't gotten as much done as she wanted. The searing heat at the apex of her thighs became too much, so she stood up from her desk chair and came around the heavy wooden furniture. Resting a buttcheek on the edge of her desk, she gripped the solid wood to gather her conviction and wait for him.

It wasn't long before the lift doors opened again.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other. Both unsure if they should cross the lines of colour, both craving it, an age old contest of nature versus nurture. Her mouth was dry, she couldn't speak, so she simply lifted a finger and crooked it, urging him towards her. And he responded. Shaky footfalls of uncertainty picked up conviction as the squares of laminate were crossed. There was no going back now. He came to stand before her, a respectable distance away.

"Miss Nicole," his head crooked slightly to the side as his eyes met hers in a steady gaze. This emboldened her and she placed her arm back upon his forearm.

"Lee? For the next hour, it's just us. I want us to be equal in this moment." Her gaze was warm, steady, inviting, and he felt himself falling into the depths therein. The tip of his tongue touched his lips, moistening them, as his eyes dropped to her neck. As they slowly returned to her steadfast gaze, he nodded.

"Let me pleasure you." She wasn't sure if it was a question, a demand or him imploring her. But it didn't matter. They both wanted this. Craved it. Needed it. The desire felt humid and heavy in the air.

She let go of his forearm and settled back on the desk. "Let me see you." Neither were sure if this were an ask or a command, but both knew that, in this moment, they burned for each other. The only conceivable answer was to the affirmative.

His eyes remained on her face as his hands moved to his white shirt buttons. In an excellent moment of foresight, he had chosen to leave the uniform jacket in the lift. Lower and lower the buttons released. His caramel skin looked warm and smooth; dark chest hairs scattered over his pecs drew her eye and she itched to run her fingers through them.

The final button released and he slid the bow tie up and over his collar, freeing his shirt. Her breath caught, her lower lip indented by her front teeth, as she watched him slide the white shirt down his arms and off his body. He was gorgeous.

His eyes flashed with hunger, their gazes still locked, as he took a small step forward and another. Until he was close enough to her that she could feel his body heat. It was a whispered promise of sultry activities yearning to be made reality.

"I'm going to kiss you," his eyes held hers for a moment. Two. Waiting for the inevitable refusal that, remarkably, didn't come this time. Instead, her lips parted as her eyes shuttered and her head tilted up towards him. He leaned into her and realized that she smelled of summer rain and night blooming Jasmine. When their lips collided it was like being struck by lightening. Her heartbeat throbbed painfully in her core as her body arched into his and her mouth opened to him. His cock jumped in his pants, straining towards this woman who had chosen to see him, despite the divide between their stations. Moving closer, he pressed against her body and she felt his hardon against her hip. His tongue found hers and together they danced as his hands came around her; one hand pressed to the small of her back and the other flat against the desk. When his lips left hers, the rush of cool air was as unwelcome as a bucket of cold water; her disapproval with the distance was overtly evident.

"I want you," her voice was a breathless whisper, the smell of him - machinery oil, petrol and sawdust - lingered in the air around her, filling her senses and driving her hot with lust. Her small, soft hand lifted from the desk and reached out to him; a slight pause, and she placed her palm against his chest. A low sound, that of a hum mixed with a groan, pure delight, emerged from her throat as her fingers splayed against his pecs. She was fascinated by the riot of colour - the paleness of her skin, the colour in his, the black of his chest hair and the pearlescent blue of her fingernail polish. It was so unique, so beautiful. She craved more.

His luscious lips pressed against hers once more before he began to kiss and lick along her jaw and up towards her earlobe. "Then I will bring you pleasure," he all but growled into her ear. The warmth of his breath adding dampness to the cotton between her legs.

Her "yes" was little more than a gasp as he pressed his full length against her, shifting her entire bottom onto the desk with her legs spread wide to accommodate his body. Despite the fabric and underwear between them, his hard length was warm against her swollen and wet core; she made a small circle with her hips, feeling the pressure of him against her sensitive, sensitized flesh. His hands travelled up and down her back, around to her sides, tracing the creases of her hips before down onto her thighs. Despite the fabric of her dress clinging to her skin, his touch seared a path along her body. With her legs spread and her desire ever growing, he could smell her arousal around him, lightly scenting the air. It edged him higher, further, as his body demanded the pleasures of the flesh. All the while, her fingertips stroked his bare chest, never straying too far south - she was a good girl after all - but desperate for the touch of him nevertheless.

His lips left her ear and trailed down over her neck to her collarbone. Meanwhile, his hands were below the hem of her dress. Her stockings were thin and she could feel the callouses on his warm hands. Whatever coherent thinking was left in her mind evaporated as her world narrowed down, simply, to him: his scent, his touch, his presence and the promise of pleasure encircling them both.

His lips left her skin as he raised his head to look at her. "May I push up your dress?" his voice was low, his eyes filled with liquid heat. She felt his fingers at the hem of the dress and knew he would stop if she said no, but that word was the furthest thing from her mind. She nodded and, little by little, he slid his hands up her legs, the hem of her dress rising alongside the caramel flesh burning over her pale white skin. As his hands slid past the top of her thigh highs, she gasped at the contact of his hand against her bare flesh in such an intimate place. She glanced down and had a moment to think how beautiful the image was, of the two colours coming together, honey and cream, and then his lips were back against her ear, his voice carrying a tone of barely constrained urgency. "May I touch you?" She could feel the heat of his fingers a hair away from the apex of her thighs; she didn't need to ask any clarifying questions.

"Yes, Lee. Bring me pleasure." Although soft, her voice held conviction and was dripping with desire. Her certainty was intoxicating for him, she craved him and that was apparent in every breath, sigh and word she said. His fingers inched up her parted thighs and, ever so gently, he stroked his index finger over the crotch of her panties. Her lips parted on a gasp as her eyes fluttered closed; he swallowed a groan of his own - she was so hot, so wet, there was absolutely no denying her attraction to him.

He increased the pressure of his finger for his next pass over the thin fabric separating him from her sensitive skin. In response, she arched her back, her hips rocking against his hand. One finger became two and she began mewling her need. His free hand undid his pants and he stepped away from her body for a moment. As cool air rushed into the space he had just occupied, her lips parted with his name.

"Lee..." she wasn't begging, but she wasn't precisely *not* begging either. This beautiful polished secretary was putty in his hands. He stripped off his pants and black briefs before stepping close into her body again.

"Nicole, I'm going to help you down from the desk -" his cock jumped in response to her growl of displeasure at his words; he had to bite back a predatory grin. "Just for a moment so I can take off your panties and get your petticoats out of the way." Her eyes were molten pits of bottomless lust, desire and need as she locked her eyes with his, took his offered arm and slid forward. She was little more than a head shorter than him, a proper petite good girl, filling the role of dignified secretary perfectly. And yet, as she stared up into his eyes, he could see her secret. She was his dirty little fuck doll who needed stuffing with his cock.

As he reached under her dress and petticoats to hook his fingers into her panties and pull them off, her gaze never left his. She was positively ravenous for him and it stoked his internal fires in response. He only pulled her panties far enough so as to have gravity work its magic as he pulled her against him and kissed her passionately, bending her backwards, toward the desktop. As his lips claimed hers, he picked her up and placed her back on the desk, her petticoats and dress behind her, rather than under. His chest pressed against hers, her ample and warm bosom straining against the fabric separating their torsos. One hand at the small of her back, he worked his other hand up her thigh. Slowly, gently, but with utter determination to reach the indisputable goal.

The first brush of his index finger against her folds caused her to whimper into his mouth. Her lips were so soft, his finger felt rough against the engorged skin - the texture winding her tighter, driving her higher. He pulled his lips back from hers as to watch her face as his finger slid easily between her lips, entering her body in a slow, confident push. "God. You're so wet," his voice was hoarse, his cock straining against her knee, dribbling precum onto her fair skin and stockings.

"More," her hands were urgent on his bare skin. Pulling him closer. Urging him on. He pulled his finger free and then inserted two. Her head tipped back, exposing the beautiful column of her neck and her hard, fast breathing. As he stroked her, in and out, in and out, their hips both began to rock to the rhythm. "Lee. Please."

He didn't bother asking if she was ready for him, he knew she was she was so wet, so wanting. And he was mindful of the time - they had only the hour. He moved back slightly for better positioning, but she didn't growl this time. Indeed, she parted her legs further and arched into him. His cock looked so dark against her delicate skin, he paused a moment to admire the contrast before watching with rapt attention as his beautiful length disappeared into her body.

She was warm, wet and tight, her face a myriad of pleasure. As he sheathed himself fully into her tight cunt, he captured her lips in a searing kiss. Held for only a moment until the hunger for pleasure became overriding. His lips left hers as he started to move against her. In her. Slow gentle strokes as she got used to his body invading hers... and he got used to the tight softness enfolding him. It felt like he filled her completely, but yet she wanted more. Craved it. Demanded it.

She pushed gently against his chest, not to break their contact but simply to reposition; she lay back on the desk, her bottom nearly off the wood, her prim and proper hair twist safe from the movement, as her head was off the other edge of the desk. Seizing that invitation, he gripped her hips and began a punishing rhythm of hard, fast thrusts. There was no time, no desire, for gentle lovemaking. No, the time they had together called for banal fucking. The air around them was heavy with the scent of arousal, the crackle of need, the demand and expectation of pleasure. Her heavy breathing became whimpers which became moans until she finally came apart, squirting all over him on a shriek of ecstasy; his balls dripped with her orgasm. "Don't stop," she managed to groan out, but he wouldn't have dreamt of stopping. He knew the hour was almost up and he was so close. Hands under her clothes, gripping her petite waist in his large hands, he buried himself in her again and again. The slapping of his balls against her buttocks sounded loud in the empty space around them.

She was such a gorgeous fuck toy lying on the desk. Immaculate hair and makeup, her dress so professional and proper .... with her skirts hiked up and her pussy being pounded by a coloured cock. He groaned at the perfection presented before him.

"Cum for me, Lee." And that breathy plea was all it took. Her voice, soft but heavy with pleasure and passion, spilling his name from her lips. He was tipped over the edge. He freed his cock from her warm core and managed to position it over her bare thigh before thick streams of cum shot out, covering her naked skin. His guttural groans of pleasure nearly tipped her over the edge again; instead she clamped down on that pleasure and simply grinned.

They spent a quiet moment of heavy breathing just gazing at each other before he happened to glance at the clock, a move that broke the simple spell that had been woven around their bodies. "Shit! They will be back right away. Here," he grabbed the Kleenex box from the corner of her desk and used two to wipe off the majority of his cum. The box of tissues was proffered to her so she could finish cleaning up as he needed to clothe himself before the bosses returned from lunch.

He handed her back her panties and then grabbed his briefs. She sat up on the side of the desk, watching him dress, her navy undergarment dangling from her finger. People believe that disrobing someone is the most intimate thing that two people can do but, really, that is flawed thinking. Watching someone dress, helping them to get dressed, carries much more intimacy. She admired his beautiful body, in its vulnerable post-orgasm state, and realized that she wanted more. She liked this man.

"You've gotten the royal shaft, haven't you, Lee?" Her sad smile was echoed in his face and the sardonic look there. "Let's do this again. I don't know if we can ever do a passion pit or back seat bingo, but, if the office is empty,..." her voice trailed off as they both heard the elevator ring.

He slipped his bow tie back into place and leaned into her for a gentle kiss, a brushing of his lips against hers. "I'd like that," he whispered against her skin. She pressed her damp panties into his hand. As the elevator bell rang again, she pushed him gently in that direction and he tucked her undergarment into his pocket.

"You better go." As he turned to cross the linoleum, to sidle back into the arbitrary lines of segregation, her voice reached out to him. "Lee?" He looked over his shoulder. "Thank you." He grinned and winked at her before stepping into the elevator and pulling the doors closed.