Fingerprints on My Heart

He looks up when I walk in. His expression is startled, then pleased. He smiles as I place my bag on the seat by the door, throw my coat over the top of it and walk over to stand beside him. My boobs quiver under my top, my nipples ache and swell like they do when I'm playing with myself except they're even harder than they are then. Much harder and much more swollen. They hurt a little.

God, I'm being such an exhibitionist and I'd be embarrassed at what I'm showing off except I'm just about panting with excitement and there's that hot wet sensation at the juncture of my thighs where I'm thinking about him touching me there like he almost did last Friday night at the restaurant. Will he try? My heart goes wild at the thought.

"Hi Nick, what're you doing?" I ask, smiling. It's a slightly nervous smile now. I don't really care what he's working on but I need to say something and it's the best I can think of. It's not like I'm going to say "do you want to put your hand up my skirt again?" I'm looking at him. God, he's just so hunky. There's something about him that draws me like a magnet. Weird. All my friends are dating guys our own age. Me, I've got a crush on some old guy. Well, not really old, but in his thirties anyhow. I know exactly how old he is. Sixteen years older than me.

He smiles up at me. His face is level with my boobs when I'm standing and he's sitting. They aren't that big and there isn't that much to stare at but his eyes flicker from my face to them and back again. I like it that he's looking at them. I wonder if he can tell that I'm not wearing a bra. I can. My nipples are swollen and hard and they're brushing the black silk of my top, pushing at the thin material and they're so sensitive. Every time I move my nipples move against the silk and little shivers run through me.

"Working, until you walked in," he says. His grin is boyish, sending more little shivers all the way through me. "What're you doing here, Kylie?"

"I thought I'd see where you work on my way home from College," I say, thinking now that maybe I've done something totally dumb. "You said maybe drop in on my way home and see you, so I did."

God, now I feel like a total idiot. How ridiculous is this. I mean, I know I have this, like, absolutely total crush on him but he's married and I know his wife. She's ten years older than me and she's drop dead gorgeous and they have the two most adorable little kids. He's not interested in me at all. It's just my overactive imagination. But there was his hand on my leg last Friday at dinner. And it wasn't just on my knee. I didn't imagine that. Did I?

I didn't imagine him saying to come by his office and see him. Did I?

He grins. It's really a very attractive grin and I feel myself just turning into mush when it's directed at me. "I'm glad you did." He looks up at me as I stand beside him. "Natasha's over visiting her parents for the evening with the kids, she won't be home until really late and I was going to work tonight. You've given me a very good reason not to if you're not doing anything." He grins. "Did you have any plans?"

"None," I say, consigning my boyfriend to the four winds. I'll text him later and cancel. "I was going to go home and study."

"How about a coffee here while I tidy things up and then a couple of drinks and I'll take you out to dinner or something instead," he says. "I'll drop you home after." He grins. "It's not like I have to be home early tonight and it'll be far more fun than last Friday if it's just you and me."

"I'd love too," I say, smiling happily. Wow. Sometimes things just work out the way you want them too. An evening with Nick. Just him and me. And he thinks that's going to be lots of fun. Oh wowowowowowow!

If I was a puppy, I'd be rolling around on the floor looking ecstatic. As it is, I'm smiling and my cheeks are a little pink. I wonder what he means by far more fun. Hand on my thigh fun? Hand under my dress fun? I'd like that. A lot. I wonder if he'll do that again. If he does, will his hand go higher? My heart dances a little. There's that thrill at the thought. That's why I wore these panties. So that if he did, he'd find he could touch more. My knees are jelly at the thought. God, if he touched me right now I'd melt. It's all I can do not to squeeze my thighs together as tight as I can.

"Good, let's get that coffee," he says. When he stands, the top of my head barely reaches his shoulder. Somehow, he has one of my hands in his and I have no idea how that happened and he's leading me out of his office into the hallway. I walk with him, his hand holding mine sends little thrills through mine. Non-stop thrills. He doesn't let it go, it's not an accident. He's deliberately holding my hand. I like that a lot. It's a long walk. All the way to the other side of the building. In the little cubbyhole of a kitchenette, I stand close to him as he makes two cups, one for him, one for me.

"Cream and sugar for you." I smile as he passes me the first cup. He remembers.

"And for you," I say. I remember too. We smile at each other.

He reaches out, once more takes my hand in his. There's no mistake. It's deliberate. I look down. He looks with me, we both look at our hands, we look up; he smiles at me. I blush, half-smiling back. I don't try to take my hand away. Neither of us say a thing. Holding our coffee's, we walk slowly back towards his office. Very slowly. My hand stays in his for the entire distance. I wish it was five times as long. Ten times.

He only releases me when we're next to his desk and he's putting his coffee down and sitting down. I place mine besides his. I'm standing. There's a chair, but it's over against the wall and I'd rather be close to him.

"Last Friday," he says.

"At the restaurant," I add. I remember. Everything. My cheeks are pink. They're burning.

"Where did we get to?" He's looking at me.

Standing while he sits, I'm a little taller than he is. His hand is suddenly on my inner leg, just above my knee, hot on my skin. I place one hand on his shoulder to keep my balance. My legs have suddenly turned to jelly. I'm flushed with excitement in an instant. He begins to stroke my leg, slowly working his way higher.

"I like your skirt," he says, his hand resting just above my knee. "It's very revealing." He smiles. "Shorter than that skirt you wore last Friday."

I smile. "That didn't seem to slow your hand down."

He grins. "It didn't, did it? Now where was I last Friday?"

"I think you got higher than that," I say. I know he was. I know exactly where he was touching me and suddenly I'm so hot and so very wet and I'm shivering with excitement and with nervous tension.

His eyes burn into mine. His fingers move lightly over my skin, teasing me, leaving tingles shivering through me in their wake. I look at him and I bite my bottom lip. If I didn't I'd moan out loud with excitement. As it is, I gasp.

"Not far from here, I believe," he says, his fingers reaching the hem of my skirt and pausing. "This IS a short skirt isn't it, Kylie?"

"Yes," I gasp. "It is." A lot shorter. That's why I'm wearing it. To show off my legs.

His smile, the look on his face, his hand on my inner thigh, resting just below my hem, those are my reward. That's why I wore this skirt.

"Hmmmm, not far from here." His fingers slide upwards, under my skirt. "I think we were here," he adds, and his hand has disappeared under my skirt, which is already short so he's very high, he's stroking my inner thigh. That slippery wetness I felt last Friday is back again except that now it's a flooding wetness and my hips want to twitch and I'm so so wet and the lacey shorts are split up the sides and they're loose, they're not tightly fitting and if his hand goes any higher he's going to find out. "About here, I think," he adds.

Suddenly I'm very very nervous. Like, totally.

"Somewhere about there," I gasp, barely able to talk, shuffling my feet a little further apart. I'm glad I wore my prettiest panties today. These are the lacey little black French short ones that I paid for myself out of my allowance and keep hidden so Mom doesn't see them. They're not really panties. They're very loose and they're slit half way up the sides. They're much more for decoration than for protection and, well, this is why I wore them. In point of fact, this is the first time I've worn them out anywhere outside of my bedroom. His fingers are almost touching them. They must only be a fraction of an inch from touching them. From finding out how exposed and accessible I am.

Will he? Will his hand move that little distance higher? I'm not going to stop them if they do.

My heart pounds as I wait to find out.

His phone rings. He looks at it. His hand leaves me. He holds a finger up to his lips. "It's Natasha," he says, before picking it up. His wife. "Hi darling ... yes ... yes, no problem ... no, I'm going to grab something here before I go home ... might meet a couple of the guys for drinks later so don't wait up for me .... no, you stay as late as you like, darling ... see you in the morning ... love you too, darling ... bye now..."

He hangs up. Smiles at me. "Now, where were we before we were interrupted?" he says.

I move even closer to him. I stand right next to him, one hand back on his shoulder. I can smell him. Masculine. A little sweat, deodorant, not too strong. It's a very attractive smell. I want to rub my face against his chest and just inhale. I want to press myself up against him and melt into his arms. Is he waiting for me to say something?

"You had your hand on my leg," I say, my cheeks burning. I'm warm everywhere. Tingling. "Under my skirt."

"You didn't mind?" he says, watching me.

I smile now. My cheeks are pinker. "No," I say. "It was nice." His eyes are on my boobs. It's not just my cheeks that are burning now. Maybe I should have worn a bra? God, if my nipples swell any more, they're going to burst. They hurt so much. They ache. For the first time in my life, I really really want a man to touch them. More than touch them. My nipples are inches away from his face, pushing that black silk outwards. He can't miss seeing that. God, I'm such an exhibitionist.

For him. For Nick.

"Maybe you should shut the door first, Kylie," he says. He's watching me. He's looking at my boobs.

I nod. I turn. I step across to his office doorway on legs that are rubbery and I close the door.

"It locks," he says.

I look down. Turn the lock. My hand is shaking. I turn back towards him. He swivels his chair towards me, watches me. My cheeks flame as I take those half a dozen steps across the room to him. My nipples rub against my top. They're so swollen and hard and I'm so very much aware that I'm not wearing a bra and that my top is translucent and he can easily see there's nothing beneath this black silk top but me. Those butterflies inside me aren't just fluttering now, they're swarming and I'm so wet that I can feel myself slippery as I walk and that's exciting me with every step.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asks. He pats his knee.

Oh god, yes! Without a second thought, I begin to turn to seat myself sideways across his lap. I've done this before, with my boyfriend. I really want to sit on Nick's lap.

"No," he says, stopping me with his hand as I turn. "This way." His hands turn me to face him. He wants me to sit astride him, facing him. His hands guide me as I do. I seat myself, conscious of the shortness of my pleated skirt. It's loose, it rides up my thighs easily. I'm sitting on his trousers, my skirt is around me, not under me. Just my panties and his trousers and him and me. His hands are outside my skirt, they hold my hips, part of my butt.

I like his hands on me. His touch is so confident, so assertive. He knows what he's doing. He's a married man. He should know what he's doing. My hands rest on his shoulders now. Seated like this, my face is slightly above his, I'm looking down at him. It's strange sitting on him, my legs either side of his. I've never sat like this with a guy, not even with my boyfriend and it's breathtakingly exciting. I'm so conscious of my short skirt, the loose-legged panties I'm wearing, of how excited and wet I am and that my legs are spread wide on either side of him.

The way a man would position me if he wanted me the way a man wants a woman. But I'm not a woman. I'm a girl. An eighteen year old girl.

He's looking up at me and my eyes look into his. "Kylie," he says.

"Yes," I say. It's more of a gasp, really. I'm breathless with excitement. That crush I have on him? Right now, I'm overwhelmed. Something's going to happen, I know it is. He wouldn't want me sitting on his knee like this if he didn't want something to happen, would he? His hand wouldn't have been on my leg, under my skirt, if he didn't want something to happen, would it? I mean, I have a boyfriend but I've never felt like this about my boyfriend. This is all my fantasies come to life and made real. This is heaven.

"You're gorgeous."

I look at him and wait, half smiling. Okay, I know I'm attractive. I'm not super-model material or anything. "And?" I say in the end, when he doesn't say anything else.

"And I want to kiss you," he says at last. His expression. He's nervous? Well, so am I.

Nervous or not, my heart's going wild. "If you want to, you can."

I look him in the eye. I want to smile but I can't, I seem to have lost muscle control over my face. What else does he have in mind? It's not like he's a teenager. He's married. I'm sure he's thinking of other things. Like putting his hand all the way up under my skirt and touching me there which I'd let him do if he wanted to even though I've never let my boyfriend do anything like that? But I don't say that.

"I'm married," Nick says. He's looking so serious. He's adorable. And yes, he is married but I don't care. It's not like I want to marry him. It's a crush I have on him. It's not like I want to move in with him and have his babies or anything.

"You've got two kids as well," I say. I'm smiling down at him. "Nick, I know that. You're sixteen years older than me too. I don't want to marry you." I have this huge teenage crush on you, silly man. Take advantage of it, why don't you?

He's looking up at me like he's trying to make up his mind about something. I'm content to sit and wait because this is so exciting sitting on him like this. I'd like to wriggle on him but, well, maybe that would be too little girly and I desperately don't want to act little girly. Not with Nick.

"There's a lot of things I'd like to do besides kiss you, Kylie," he says at last.

My heart dances a wild fandango. I'm all choked up inside and those butterflies aren't just swarming now, a flock of them is migrating to Mexico inside me or something. "Okay," I whisper.

"If you don't like what I do, all you have to do is say stop," he says and his voice is so soft and gentle. As gentle as his eyes looking into mine. My heart melts. I melt. I can't believe how wet I am and I'm just limp and I'm positive there's going to be a big wet patch on his trousers soon if there isn't one there already.

I look at him through eyes that are half-closed. "Okay," I say. "I'll say stop if I want you to." I can't wait. I want to say "Go" but I can't. That'd be silly. The expectation and anticipation is killing me. It's like the first time I was kissed. Will he? Won't he? Will he? Oh please, just hurry up.

He smiles. One of his hands reaches up, his fingers brush my cheek, trace my jaw, guide my face closer to his until our noses touch. I angle my head just a little, our lips brush. Touch. It's not like I've never kissed before. I have. A million times with my boyfriend. My mouth opens and suddenly we're kissing passionately, his hand is behind my head, holding me as his lips crush mine, as his tongue slips into my mouth, swirling against mine, dancing with mine, tasting me.

By the time we come up for air, I'm just about moaning into his mouth. Magical kisses? It is, it's beyond magic. The best kiss ever, that's what it is. When our lips part, I'm gasping for breath. He's breathing hard too. We look at each other and then, a split second later, we're kissing again, even more passionately and my mouth is wide open to him, he's kissing me however he wants too and I'm there for him, his tongue in my mouth, his lips crushing mine, moaning softly now with every breath, on and on and on.

At last our lips part and this time it's not for a pause, it's because both his hands are on my thighs, sliding up under my skirt to my hips, exploring that slit in my panties that runs to the top on either side, his fingers on my skin, stroking me, holding me, pulling me closer to him so that now I'm pulled up tight against him and then suddenly we're kissing again and I can feel how hard he is through his trousers because I'm pulled up hard against him.

His bulging length is right where I'm pressed up tight against him and those loose lace panties are doing nothing but rub against me where I'm so incredibly sensitive and this feels even better than when I touch myself and he's not even touching me and I'm moaning into his mouth as we kiss. As he kisses me. Really moaning, uncontrollable, noises that just come from me and I've never had this happen to me before. Never and I'm just making these noises and they're just coming out.

His hands, they're on my skin, high under my skirt, on my hips, his fingers under the lace of my panties where they're slit up the sides, digging into my butt and holding me, pulling me closer to him, moving me against him so that I want to squeal with excitement and then he's kissing me again, lips crushing mine, his mouth possessing mine the way I've dreamed of his mouth possessing mine except reality exceeds fantasy a thousand fold. I open my mouth wide, his lips crush mine, his tongue is inside my mouth and him kissing me is paradise.

"Ooohhhhhh." I can't help it, I moan loudly as his hands move me and his hands are on my butt now, pushing the lace out of the way, his fingers kneading my butt cheeks and I'm clinging to him as he kisses my face, my nose, my cheeks, my ear, my neck, his lips everywhere. He takes a breath, he looks at me. His nose brushes mine, his hands are sliding over my hips, caressing me now, hot on my skin.

He says nothing but his hands slide out from under my short skirt. They're on my waist now, easing my black silk top out from where it's tucked under the waistband of my skirt. Easing all of my black silk Calvin Klein top out until it hangs loose and I look down and watch his fingers as they begin to unbutton it. I'm not wearing anything underneath. No bra. Nothing. He knows that, I'm sure he does. It's impossible to miss. My nipples are so hard they hurt as I watch his fingers moving. One button, then two, then three.

His fingers are between my breasts, they pause. "Can I?" he asks.

"Yes," I gasp, and it's like my heart is in my mouth when I speak.

He smiles. His fingers unfasten a fourth button, then the fifth, working their way downwards. There's one more. He unfastens that last button. He reaches up, takes one of my hands from his shoulder, and moves my fingers to my top.

"Open your top for me," he says, "I want to look at you."

I shiver. Tremble. My heart pounds. With that one shaking hand, I ease my top open, slowly, exposing one of my boobs to his eyes. My face is on fire, I'm having difficulty breathing. I've never done anything like this before, showing myself to a guy. Exposing my boobs. Not like this. Never. He's the first guy to ever see my boobs and it's me revealing them to him. Sure, he undid my top but it's my hands peeling that black silk away and exposing myself to him.

His eyes burn into my skin. My nipples seems to swell, grow even larger, they're both aching and hurting now. So hard and so hurting. I look down and they're larger than I've ever seen them, so swollen and full. I keep my top open so that he can look at me. Look at my boobs. My nipples. Shivering. I'm shivering.