Imaginary Mistress

Authors note: Thank you all for the feedback it is very much appreciated. This story is dedicated to the woman of my dreams.

Thank you to Slavegirl 70 for taking the time to edit and give feedback.

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In my dream she asked no questions, she just commanded. In my dream I obeyed completely and without hesitation. In my dream we were in love, the kind of love that would survive anything, the kind of love that made you do anything to know happiness. In my dream the only sounds were cascades of sultry moans and demands with the occasional slap to my backside.

In the real world the sound was my alarm clock. In the real world I have never been with a woman or participated in any of the deviant acts I see in my dreams almost nightly. In the real world I was conservative, very much reserved. In the real world I was wet and late for work.

I scrambled out of bed and began my morning routine, albeit the abbreviated version where toast is not enjoyed but inhaled. My morning commute involved a short drive and a 30-minute train ride into the city, and while on most days the train was a haven for stolen moments lost in a book, today I had far too much on my mind.

Why was I still dreaming about these things? I kept asking myself. It had been two months now, and the dreams got more and more frequent; as time went on I was beginning to worry. Am I a lesbian? Those four words haunted me consistently since I met her and began dreaming the very things I imagine a 16-year old boy dreams about.

I couldn't be. I have had boyfriends and enjoyed them sexually, well, except the one guy we don't talk about but we won't get sidetracked here. I will admit I have been having a bit of a dry spell, but I was taking care of myself on a mostly regular basis and I usually thought of movie stars like most women.

I don't need this right now. I stepped off the train and resumed my rush—the time for thought was over.

My heels clicked on the linoleum in quick succession, trying to make it to the morning meeting before my boss. I felt the eyes of judgement on me while I almost sprinted through the lobby (as much as my skirt would allow) and past the receptionist. I could see the glass meeting room from across the office; everyone was taking their seats. I was late. I reached the door right as the meeting started and the five other employees in attendance gave me mixed looks of annoyance and pity while I quietly excused myself and sat down.

I worked in a small fashion design company and I enjoyed it very much. At least I had, up until the point I got promoted. I enjoyed working quietly, sewing, drawing and only having to keep track of myself. But unfortunately my performance got me noticed and now I have meetings and subordinates. Fashion was my escape from the world, I loved to put fabrics together and design a masterpiece that was elegant and simple, much like me.

I finally made it to my office, which was the only perk to my promotion I enjoyed—I had private space. Slumping in my chair, I was already exhausted and of course my phone rang immediately.

"Good Morning, this is Christina," I answered quickly.

"You don't have to say who it is Tina, I called you."

I knew the voice and should have expected the call. Why wouldn't she call, I was late! I felt my palms begin to sweat and my heart race just at the sound of her voice. What is wrong with me?

"Uh, yes ma'am, of course. H...how can I help you this morning?" I stammered, completely embarrassed.

"I would like to see you in my office, and please be quick Tina," she calmly ordered and hung up.

I stood up, went to my full-length mirror on the wall and just looked at myself while I slowed my breath. I have no idea why you are getting all worked up but just relax, go to her office, apologize quickly and then just listen to what she has to say.

I straightened my skirt, ensured my blouse had not acquired a stain during the morning commute, took another deep breath and headed off to her office. My stride was one of confidence and determination; my brain was soothing me, telling me to relax..

I reached her door, knocked twice, and she quickly beckoned me in. There she was. Ms. Taylor—lead of design and development, master seamstress and a genius with fabric. She came to our company almost two months ago and already had made quite an impression. She was quick and stunning and for some reason decided I needed a promotion. Every day she was impeccable as if she was the model and not the designer.

Today she wore a more formal pantsuit which complimented her body completely, especially with the long collared heavy dipped blouse that gave us all a nice view of her neckline and cleavage. Her hair was a bouncing mesh of black twists that were just long enough to cause her to have to move them from her face from time to time. She was a very beautiful woman and equally talented. I could not help but admire her, but what I felt and dreamt was more than just admiration—it was unsettling.

"Sit down Tina," Ms. Taylor requested, as she moved around her desk to lean against it in front of me. "Are you alright? I only ask because you are not usually the late type and I want to make sure everything is OK and you just slept in a bit."

She was the only person that called me Tina ever, she said it the first time we met and never tried anything else. I felt like she effectively renamed me.

"No Ms. Taylor, I am just fine—I overslept this morning. I have not been getting the best nights' rest. I do apologize, I know you gave me this position and I appreciate you trusting me. I don't want you to think that I don't deserve it." I responded, delivering my scripted apology effectively.

"You deserve that position if not more, and I am not sure you see that Tina," she responded.

I could not help but stare at her full lips as she spoke they seemed to dance around the words they formed with the precision of an expert dancer. I felt myself lost in her words, just admiring her beauty and her wonderful caramel complexion.

"Are you listening Tina?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"I...uh...yes I was...I mean no. I apologize Ms. Taylor, I seem to be out of it this morning—distracted I guess." I felt compelled to tell the truth to her; I did not want to continue to disappoint her.

"I can tell that you are distracted, but I am going to need you to get your head in the game. You are going with me to find some new fabric today. I am glad you wore the stockings and skirt today, not only do they look good on you they will be great for dropping some prices. Now go and get your team set up for today and I will call you when I am ready."

I left her office and did as instructed, letting her last words roll around in my mind. I set my team up to work on the new designs for our presentation next week; the fall line was right around the corner and while I hated to be in charge, I hated failing even more.

I returned to my office only to realize I had been effectively told to wait. I found myself nervous and fidgeting, thinking about how the day with Ms. Taylor would play out. "Would I be helpful? Would she listen to my opinion? Am I just someone to carry the bags? Did she really say she liked my stockings or did she say legs?" My mind raced with uncertainty and doubt tinged with confusing sexual undertones. I lifted the top of my skirt and found solace in running my fingers against the nylon that gripped my thigh.

It felt forbidden in the workplace, yet so comforting that I let my head fall back slightly and traced the tops of my stockings with both hands. I started from the outsides of my thighs and followed them all the way across, slowly, until my hands met on the inside of my thighs and traced them back. I took deep breaths in rhythm with my soft touches; I felt so at ease, so in sync, so relaxed, I spread my legs wider to lengthen my strokes around my thighs without thinking, just enjoying how the nylon felt against my skin.

She crept into my thoughts, into my moment of peace, and I pushed my legs apart further. She wanted me to be displayed for her, open and ready, and I was. She opened my blouse slowly one button at a time, commanding me not to move an inch as she removed my clothing. She teased me, making me beg her for it asking me questions and only continuing after I answered them.

Three buttons down, looking me directly in my eyes she asked me, "Do you want to be naked in front of me?"

I gulped, unsure if I could answer out loud, my hands gripping the armrests of my chair, my legs spread obscenely and the only woman I have ever wanted standing in between my legs with her hands on the buttons that could expose my still-covered breasts.

"Yes," I squeaked.

"Good," she smiled, undoing another button and opening my shirt exposing my flat belly and my breasts, still in the bra I selected while thinking of her this morning.

"Now be a good girl and lean forward," she prodded, sliding her hands up my sides caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps in her wake and reaching for the clasp of my bra.

I could inhale her scent she was so close. I wanted nothing more in that moment but to kiss her full, supple lips but I dared not move. In one expert motion she freed my breasts and slowly lifted my bra out of the way. She slowly leaned back and placed one high heel-clad foot on the edge of my chair, in between my legs.

"Do you want me to taste your perky little tits?" she teased, fully knowing that's what I wanted.

"Yes please!" I begged, with no shame whatsoever.

"Take my shoe off!" she commanded.

I complied immediately, removing her expensive shoe, staring intently on her beautifully manicured toes. The contrast of her caramel complexion with the deep red toes was completely arousing. I just held her foot in my hand, unsure what to do next, although what I wanted was to taste her—any part of her—even if it was her toe.

"Put my foot down, if you want me to touch you. First you must prove you deserve it." She said, sitting down on the edge of my desk, keeping her foot planted at my crotch. "What will you do to prove you deserve it, my needy white pet?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and watching me intently.

She had never called me her pet before, nor had she made mention of our differences in race, and while I felt I should have been offended, I was actually flush with desire. "Whatever you tell me to do, tell me what I need to do to deserve it, please." I begged once again, meaning every word.

"Move your panties to the side and fuck my foot. If you can come on my foot, I might let you make me come and then we can discuss me touching you." She replied coolly, as if it was the most normal action one could take.

I did not hesitate and slid my panties to the side and scooted up to her foot, doing my best to put pressure on my clit with her big toe. I could immediately tell how wet I was, my fingers were coated in my juices...my fingers?

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"Ahem! Don't you think that is something you should take care of at home Tina?" Ms. Taylor spoke from my office door, snapping me away from my disturbing fantasy.

I almost fell out of my chair trying to lean forward and cover my shame. I just got caught with my legs spread, hands between my legs, masturbating to a fantasy about a woman—this woman! What in the world was wrong with me?

"I...uh...sorry...I just...I don't know what to say, I am so embarrassed right now." I responded, knowing I had nothing I could truly say to get me out of this situation.

"Clean yourself up and meet me downstairs, we have fabric to get and hopefully now you can concentrate." She said, then swiftly turned and left without giving me an opportunity to respond.

I'm not fired? I marveled to myself feeling an array of shock, confusion, embarrassment and humiliation.

I stood up quickly, flattened my skirt and made a beeline for the bathroom, avoiding all eye contact on the way. Luckily I was the only woman inside and it gave me an opportunity to assess what just happened. My inner dialogue sounded like a room full of confused and frustrated women attempting to figure out a gay Rubik's cube.

Am I really gay?

Well, it sure seems like it...

Oh my God, I was masturbating at work! How could I?

You really need to get yourself together.

No you need to finish what you started before you go downstairs.

You are not gay, just frustrated and alone, wash your hands and get back to work.

Damn that felt good, though—and knowing she saw me, jeez!

You can be embarrassed or turned on; we do not have time for both!

Do you really want to keep her waiting for you to figure it all out?

"Shit," I muttered under my breath and quickly checked myself in the mirror before heading towards the elevator. I needed to get ahold of myself and process the rest of this later, right now I needed to concentrate on not getting fired.

Her car was parked in front when I got downstairs and she was in the passenger seat, obviously annoyed. I had taken too long, I could tell as she pointed to the driver's seat as I walked up. I guess I'm the chauffeur today.

I sat down and buckled up, attempting to avoid eye contact when she began to speak, "I do not like to be kept waiting at all Tina, let's clear this up now. Look at me," she said to me, her tone relaying how serious she was.

I turned to her and met her eyes, they were fierce and deliberate and her face was controlled yet descriptive. I could read from her face exactly what she wanted me to know, and right now she was annoyed—borderline angry.

"Yes, I saw you tapping out a cry for help in Morse code on your little love button. Yes, we are going to have a discussion about where you need to be playing with yourself and where you should refrain from it. No you are not fired, so you have until you get to Toland's warehouse to quit with the embarrassment and get with the program. Do you understand me?"

I just stared at her in shock for a moment before blurting, "Yes Ms. Taylor, do you want me to take the tunnel or the bridge?"

"The bridge is fine Tina, now drive. We have wasted enough time. Tell me about what you have planned for the fall line." Relaxing a bit in her seat, she began working on her tablet while she spoke to me.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, I drove her to several fabric dealers and we made even more deals then I expected we would. Ms. Taylor had more vision then I ever imagined and it was inspiring to watch her work and see where her head was. It would not surprise me if she ended up taking over the company in a few years. I watched her make decisions and lean on me for input and an occasional rebuttal to a dealer attempting to over-sell fabric. More than a few times did I catch a few glances at my stockings and skirt but I was determined not to let it distract me.

Over the course of the day we had several conversations, all of them about work even when we took fifteen minutes to sit down and eat. Ms. Taylor was all business when she needed to be, but ever so commanding all day—I found I liked it quite a bit.

"You did well today. Catch up with whomever on your team is left here this late and meet me in my office." She said, closing the car door and heading into the building without giving me a chance to say thank you.

I noticed she did that quite a bit, she never expected a response; she never expected anything other than obedience. So obedient I was, I only had two of my team left, so I sent them home—it was late in the day most everyone was gone by now anyway. I went into my office hoping to decompress for a second before going to see Ms. Taylor, but I couldn't bring myself to sit down. I stared at the chair I was caught masturbating in not a handful of hours ago, wanting to just sit down and take off these heels for a moment, but she did not tell me to sit she told me to come.

I turned and walked out of my office and headed straight for hers, feeling a slight rush from the obedience. I knocked on her closed office door, as it often was.

"Come in," I heard from behind the door.

I walked in and found Ms. Taylor sitting at her desk typing away, presumably finishing up the orders for the day.

"You wanted to see me, Ms. Taylor?" I asked, waiting to be told to sit down, and noticing how I was taking every opportunity to get her to tell me to do something.

"Yes, close the door and come in," she said, without looking up at me.

I turned and closed the door softly, walked to her desk and stood in front of the chair waiting for her patiently. Everything about this situation was somehow erotic to me.

You are such a lesbo—you've got the total hots for this woman, just accept it."

She looked up at me and stared for a moment, assessing me for an eternity it seemed, before saying, "You may sit Tina."

She finished typing and turned to me, as I got comfortable in the chair.

"We need to talk about this morning," she said calmly.

I gulped so heavily I was sure she heard it.

"Workplace masturbation is not uncommon, in fact they say it is good for the nerves right before a big meeting or presentation. There are men in the business world that ensure they have a willing secretary around to service them before making deals. They say it keeps the mind clear. Now I don't know the science of it and it sounds like it makes sense, but I do know this, you performed very well after that little display so maybe it does work. So the bottom line is, take care of yourself at home or you lock your door, do you understand?"

I did not hesitate; I hung on her every word. I met her gaze with the intent of showing her my undivided attention.

"Yes Ms. Taylor, masturbate at home or lock my door," I replied with a slight smile.

She raised an eyebrow at me, though I couldn't tell what it meant. Then with the flick of her wrist she signaled for me to leave.

I was out the door when I turned to her, watching her start typing again and said, "Goodnight Ms. Taylor. Thank you for the opportunity to learn today, I truly appreciate it." I closed the door and walked away, this time not giving her a chance to respond.

I went back to my office, closed the door but did not lock it; I guess looking back I wanted her to catch me finishing myself. I hiked my skirt up and kicked off my heels, slid out of my panties and slowly began to tease my neglected clit when she walked in.

"What did I just tell you Tina? You obviously do not listen well, maybe I should fire you!" She almost screamed at me.

"No, please don't, Ms. Taylor. It's just I didn't get to finish earlier and I need it so bad," I begged, literally dropping to my knees.

"I need this job, I promise I will do as you say from now on. Please don't fire me." I was on the verge of tears, how could I have been so selfish and stupid?

"In my office now!" she commanded, her voice still angry and seemingly disappointed.

I began to get off my knees and start to walk when she stopped me.

"Follow directions Tina, I do not like to repeat myself. I did not tell you to do anything but get in my office now!" she commanded, looking down on me in my compromising position.

I wondered if anyone would see me, there had to be a least a few people still in the office. I had to move quickly and quietly, so I began to crawl on my hands and knees out my door with my rear end completely exposed. She walked behind me and I could feel her eyes on my body as I crawled the 30 feet to her office, knowing I was ruining my stockings. There was a large break area I had to cross to get to her office and I could hear someone inside so I stopped when I reached the corner to do an assessment of the situation. The instant I stopped I was greeted by a hard smack on my rear end that was enough to elicit a yelp from me.