Executive Priviledges

Christine Malone was conducting a meeting of her executive team in her corner office. As the President of Malone Financial, she led a prestigious financial services organization that had been founded seventy three years ago by her grandfather. After her father stepped aside two years ago, Christine took the reins of one of the largest privately-held financial companies in the country. Although only 32, she had been preparing for this role for most of her life, and under her skilled guidance Malone Financial was enjoying great success and growth.

She gathered the key vice-presidents and directors in her office each week for strategic planning meetings. The spacious corner office contained a large wood conference table, surrounded by 12 leather rolling chairs, situated near a wall of windows that overlooked the harbor. Along an adjacent wall was a long leather sofa, and near the other interior wall was Christine's antique mahogany desk. Bookshelves with a collection of hardbound books, several awards and a few paintings on the paneled walls completed the executive suite.

On this late afternoon, the confident leader was wrapping up the session by stressing a few key points. She commanded their attention with her words and her movements. Standing at the head of the table, speaking in a firm, motivating tone, Christine exuded self-confidence and leadership. Tall and slender, with golden blonde shoulder-length hair cut in a soft shag that framed her beautiful face, Christine was dressed in an elegantly tailored blue suit jacket and skirt, with coffee-colored nylons and a pair of dark blue slingback pumps with pencil-thin, four inch heels. A beautiful woman whose appearance never undermined her role as president, Christine was no "pretty face" figurehead. She was an intelligent, experienced professional whose actions and leadership brought success to her and her company.

She concluded the meeting and dismissed her team. Most of the six male and three female executives were set to fly out of town that night to attend a national conference. Two of them were scheduled to meet with important clients for dinner that evening. They gathered their folders and left Christine's office immediately while Christine returned to her desk and scanned her e-mail messages. One remained seated at the conference table.

Catherine Jennings' eyes were focused on the screen of her laptop computer and she tapped at the keyboard as the others left. Christine's administrative assistant, Mary, appeared in the office doorway and asked Christine if there were any more items to be completed today. With a smile and wave, Christine told her, "No, Mary, that's all for today. Go on home. I'll see you tomorrow." Mary turned, grabbed her coat from her desk chair and headed for the exit. A few minutes later, Catherine concluded her typing, snapped closed her laptop, and swiveled in her chair towards Christine.

"Do you think they know?" she asked softly.

Christine was gently startled from her work by the question, and asked reflexively, "What?"

"Do you think they know?" Catherine repeated. She slid her right leg up along her left and smoothly crossed it over her left knee. "I wonder if any of them suspect." She sat back comfortably in the leather chair, now turned to directly face Christine. Her right foot, clad in a black leather high-heeled pump, swung slightly up and down. Her brown eyes peered through gold-framed glasses searching for a response while her face remained expressionless. Her eyes did catch the slight changes in Christine's line of vision, noticing Christine's focus subtly shift from Catherine's face to her black shoe and then back again.

The 28-year old Catherine was the picture of business professionalism. Her long brown hair was perfectly combed back and pinned up in a neat bun so that not a single strand hung down out of place. One, simple pearl earring adorned each ear, and her beautiful facial features were subtly complimented by understated make-up -- a bit of blush, light amounts of eyeliner, and some pale red lipstick. Her glasses added a 'studious' look, while the dark grey suit she wore was conservative yet elegant. A tailored, two-button jacket covered a simple, collared white linen blouse that was buttoned up to just below her neck where a short strand of pearls was draped. The slim skirt, tailored of the same fine grey pinstriped material as the jacket, came down to Catherine's knees. Seated as she was now, the hem of the skirt rested an inch or so above her right knee, maintaining a conservative, demure appearance. Her legs were sheathed in sheer hosiery with the slightest pale black tint, and on her feet she wore a pair of black pumps. They were simple and classic, each with a pointed toe and a slim, four and a half inch stiletto heel. The heels were a bit too high for true professional decorum, but this was the only minor detail that conflicted with her otherwise conservative, business-like appearance.

"I don't think there's any reason to be concerned," Christine said with quiet reassurance. With that she looked back at her computer screen. Part of her hoped that would be the end of the discussion.

"I just can't help but think that someone will find out," Catherine said.

She removed her glasses with both hands, focused her gaze in front of her as she folded the glasses and then silently slipped them into the outside breast pocket of her jacket. Catherine looked up again at Christine, and stood up.

"Every day I keep thinking that today will be the day one of them discovers me for what I truly am."

She walked with slow, graceful steps from the conference table towards the double office doors and continued to talk.

"Trying to be the Director of Special Projects for such a large, successful company is a huge responsibility. I'm constantly worrying about what I do and if it will be good enough. Can I pull it off, while I'm trying so hard not to be distracted?"

Catherine reached out for the one large wooden door that was open, slowly closed it, and turned the brass lock to secure it.

At the sound of the bolt clicking into the locked position, Christine reflexively pushed her high-backed leather desk chair a few inches back and swiveled it to her right. She looked intently at Catherine while her hands grasped the soft leather armrests of the chair and she crossed her legs at the ankles. Her throat was suddenly dry and she swallowed with some effort while her lips parted slightly. She softly said, "You perform your duties well. There's no reason for that to be questioned." Christine struggled to speak in a calm, controlled tone as the rate and intensity of her heartbeat increased.

Catherine's hands came together at the top button of her suit jacket and her long, slender fingers with their perfect, French-manicured nails pushed the pearl black button through its buttonhole. As she continued onto the second button, she responded.

"But does anyone ever question the frequent closed-door meetings, the extended lunch appointments?" A soft sigh escaped from her mouth, and then she softly said, "I have to take off this jacket."

Catherine shrugged it off her shoulders, slipped her left arm out and then took hold of the collar while it dropped off her right arm. She gave the garment a toss so that it landed on the arm of the sofa nearest the doorway. She turned so that her back was again to the doors and she faced Christine.

"What would they say if they knew why I'm really here? Do any of them have any idea?" she said in a low, throaty voice. As she spoke, Catherine's hands were slowly, deliberately removing the pins from her hair, one by one. As she removed each pin, she dropped it to the floor at her feet.

"You know that I try my best to play the role. The suits... the hair style... the focused, professional attitude. Reserved, rational, unemotional. The ideal executive." She sighed, "It's so hard to do, day after day."

With those words, the last pin was removed and Catherine's hair tumbled down around her face and onto her shoulders. She spread out her fingers, running them through her thick, brown mane, finally fluffing it and raking it back off her face, which lit up with a wicked little grin.

"Of course, I just can't resist wearing heels. I guess I need to let a little of my 'unprofessional side' show through." Catherine giggled softly, glanced down at her feet, and then continued. "Maybe, deep down inside, I want someone to be suspicious and discover my secret." She looked down again at her black pumps while saying, "Actually, I think they look very sexy with my suits," she paused for effect and then looked up at Christine, "and I know how much you like them."

Little by little, Catherine had stripped away her professional façade, and now there was a palpable, dangerous 'tension' in the room. Christine's gaze was fixed upon the suddenly sensuous, teasing brunette in front of her. She shifted restlessly in her chair, a soft 'hiss' audible as her nylon-clad legs rubbed together. Her left hand moved from the arm of the chair over to her thigh and began to lightly stroke her own leg through her skirt. Christine struggled in her mind for a way to stay in control of the situation, but a momentary wave of emotion pulsed through her and she sensed that it was already too late. Both women now took longer, deeper breaths than before.

Positioned against the doors, Catherine struck a pose that silently dared Christine to defy her. She leaned back slightly, with her long legs straight and spread against the material of her skirt to stretch it taut around her thighs. Her eyes locked onto Christine's with intensity and she purred, "I don't want to be Catherine, the executive, any more today."

With that, she moved towards her boss and each long, slow, deliberate step kept her slim skirt stretched tight. She walked with complete confidence and feminine grace in her stiletto heels. Now standing up against the paneled wall directly behind Christine's desk, the brunette whispered, "I just want to be Cathy, your sexy little plaything."

Christine reacted instinctively, rubbing her thighs together and letting out a tiny moan. The smooth, beautiful fingers of both her hands were now pressed onto her own thighs as she fought to maintain her composure.

In an instant, Cathy's hands were clutching at her linen blouse, at the opening between the second and third buttons. She gripped each side tightly, moaned "I can't stand this any more!" and then violently tore the garment open. The sounds of cloth tearing and buttons popping were mixed with a passionate cry of arousal from her lips.

Christine cried out, too. "Oh my god!" she blurted out, stunned at the sight before her.

Cathy pulled the blouse down until it hung around her waist, the sleeves still surrounding her arms. A red lace bra strained to confine her breasts, full and heaving with each breath she took. Her eyes were closed, head thrust back and tilted up as if in the throes of ecstasy. She moaned again, opened her eyes and then stared at Christine.

"My skirt..." she panted urgently, "Oh god, I just want it off. I want you to see what I've kept hidden just for you. Rip it off!" she begged, "Oh baby, please, just tear it off me!"

There was a two inch vent on the hem of the skirt, at Cathy's left knee. Christine saw it, leaned forward in her chair, and put her hands on it. She hesitated and glanced up at Cathy.

"Do it!," Cathy pleaded breathlessly, "I want you to do it!"

With that, Christine's fingers tightened their grip on the small opening in the hem and she forcefully ripped the skirt open. As it was happening, Cathy let out an orgasmic groan and watched Christine intently. The material tore up to the waistband, and when she saw that some of it remained, Christine tightened her grip again and pulled determinedly with a grunt, completely tearing it apart.

"Oh, yeah," Cathy moaned, "Yeah. God, that felt so good! Now I can finally be myself!"

Christine dropped the grey skirt, torn and ruined. She pushed with her feet to roll her chair back a few inches. She was sitting on the front edge of the chair, her knees together and her feet spread apart. Tiny beads of sweat dotted her forehead, and her blonde hair was disheveled in a sexy way. Her eyes hungrily scanned the gorgeous female body in front of her: A red lace garter belt encircled Cathy's slim waist, attached by four straps to the sheer black stockings that clung to her shapely legs. Tiny panties, of the same delicate red lace as the bra and garter, barely covered the sexy little triangle of her crotch. And of course there were the black leather high heels adorning Cathy's feet.

"So, do you like what you see?" Cathy teasingly whispered.

Swept up in a wild rush of lust, Christine looked up into Cathy's eyes and moaned, "God, I want you!"

Christine nearly leaped from her chair and took Cathy in her arms. They clutched each other, pressing lips and bodies together urgently. Hands caressed and roamed over sweet, feminine curves. Wet, full lips kissed and passionately nibbled. Tongues slipped in and out of warm, hungry mouths. The two beauties ached for each other.

"Do anything you want to me," Cathy managed to gasp after a few minutes, "I'm yours." While Cathy said this, Christine was aggressively kissing her neck and pulling Cathy's head towards her with her right hand, fingers intertwined in Cathy's thick, brown hair. Christine was pressing her crotch against Cathy's right hip, with her legs straddling Cathy's stocking-clad right leg. She began to grind up and down on Cathy's thigh, seeking relief from the aching arousal in her vagina.

Cathy's hands began to force the blue suit jacket off of Christine's shoulders, seeking to undress the beautiful blonde.

"Be careful," Christine implored as she realized what Cathy was doing. There was still a small part of Christine that was aware she couldn't allow her own clothes to be torn in the way Cathy's had been. The passionate brunette listened to her partner and used her hands and Christine's movements to slip the jacket off. She tossed it onto the desk, and then began unbuttoning the silk blouse it had covered.

They continued to kiss and caress each other while working their arms out of their blouses, which were then dropped at their feet. Christine's hands were now roaming over Cathy's chest, and a moment later, she ran her fingers along the edges of the red lace bra cups to slip them down and to expose Cathy's beautiful breasts.

They were full, round, perfect globes with stiff, tiny nipples and her fingers toyed with them for only a few seconds before Christine hungrily brought her mouth to them. She teasingly licked and sucked the left one and then the right one, sending shivers up Cathy's spine.

"Ooh, I love when you do that," Cathy moaned, "I love the way you play with me."

That reaction only made Christine want to do it more. There was something so arousing about making Cathy respond like that. Christine was losing herself in this secret, forbidden pairing they shared, and she loved it.

Cathy's hands slid down from above Christine's waist to her hips and ass. She began erotically rubbing her through the skirt in rhythm with the motion of Christine's grinding. After a few moments, her fingers grasped for the material of Christine's skirt and started to tug on it. Christine was licking and kissing the soft, warm skin of Cathy's neck, shoulders and breasts while the seductive brunette continued to urge her on.

"I love everything you do to me," Cathy said in a sexy whisper. "You make me feel so amazing, so alive when we're together." At the same time, she began to inch the slim skirt higher on Christine's thighs, eliciting a moan of arousal from the blonde beauty.

"You like that, don't you? You want me to hike your skirt up." Cathy's voice had taken on an edge, and she felt a thrill from the control she had over her boss. She knew exactly how to use Christine's passionate desire for her and for the forbidden, sexual relationship they shared.

"You want me to touch you, the way a man would. You're aching for me to uncover this sexy, hot body of yours, the one you keep hidden under these suits. It makes you feel sexy, and dirty, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Christine admitted with an aroused sigh.

"You're so beautiful and successful, and any man would kill to be with you like this, but you love it when I'm the one touching you, when I'm the one making you feel sexy."

As she continued to lick and kiss Cathy's neck and chest, Christine managed to moan, "Uh huh," half in passionate agreement and half in guilty confession.

Cathy slowly worked the snug skirt higher up Christine's sleek, strong thighs.

"What would people think if they saw me doing this to you? Hiking your skirt up, treating you like some sexy, hot slut, and you loving it!"

As she said those words, Cathy's hands dragged the skirt up and over Christine's tight, round ass and Christine shuttered. A tiny orgasm pulsed through her crotch and belly, brought on by Cathy's erotic, teasing words and the sensation of being 'revealed' by her beautiful lover. At that moment, Christine felt completely transformed into a sexy, hot slut... a lipstick lesbian who wanted nothing more than to be with her gorgeous lover, Cathy. Her company, her position, the office they stood in - none of it mattered to Christine right now. She was totally caught up in waves of passion. She felt feminine and sexy, and wanted to ravage Cathy until they were both completely spent.

Cathy sensed that Christine had truly surrendered to her, and that helped trigger her own small climax at that moment. There was something so powerful, so intense about the way Christine responded to her, Cathy couldn't even put the feelings into words in her own mind. But she knew she had never experienced more pleasure than when they were together like this. It was time for more.

"I hope you enjoyed my show today," Cathy continued. "I took every opportunity I could to walk by you. Did I look good in my skirt and my high heels?" she teased.

"Oh, yeah" Christine breathlessly replied.

Cathy smiled. "I love to wear 'fuck me' high heels for you, baby. It's just so naughty, and I know how you'll treat me when we finally get to be alone!" With that, her hands caressed Christine's tight ass cheeks and toyed with the straps of her white lace garter belt. "You knew I was wearing stockings and garters under my suit, didn't you? I know you were hoping..."

Cathy put her hands on Christine's hips and helped her to grind against Cathy's leg, eliciting another horny, aching groan from the panting blonde.

"You really love me in these black heels, don't you? You'd love to wear yours here at the office, too, but you're afraid... Afraid you'd let too much of your slutty side show through."

Again, Christine could only manage a low, throaty "yeah" in reply. She both loved and hated when Cathy did this to her. She was a respected, successful woman who couldn't help but give into these strong, forbidden urges that made her feel at once, dirty and amazingly alive.

"Show me how much you love me in my 'fuck me' heels." Cathy teased in a low, urgent voice. With that, she stepped to her right, swept past Christine and sat in the leather desk chair. Cathy crossed her right leg over her left, and once again swung her right foot up and down slowly, as she had done earlier at the conference table. "C'mon, baby," she beckoned to Christine with a wicked little smile on her face.

Christine dropped down to her knees in front of Cathy, sighing with arousal and just a tinge of shame, and reached out with her hands to hold Cathy's high heel-clad right foot. She cradled it and marveled at how completely feminine and sexy Cathy was. For an instant, Christine wondered why she was so aroused by high heels, but she lost herself again in this wicked foreplay and guided the foot in the black shoe up towards her face.