Implications Ch. 01

It was an odd feeling, Sarah thought.

It was never like she was overly inclined to give into her more primal demands. They had always been more of an afterthought, something creeping in the back of her mind like "... a mold." That was an adequate way of phrasing it, she supposed. But today it was slightly different, only slightly.

Being a career woman had always been her priority, to try and be the best she could be. That's what her mother tried to instill in her from a young age, anyway. She sat in her office chair, reclining ever so slightly back, pencil between her lips, hand resting on the note pad, and gaze fixed on the bulge of the new intern as he used a step ladder to retrieve a file from the top shelf. By her request, of course. Not that the thick binder was needed, no, she was simply curious how his form would show if his body was made to be in a stretched out position.

With her curiosity sated, and gritted pencil removed from her lips, gaze turned from the man's dull gray trousers, she resumed her notes on the report of meaningless numbers shown on her monitor. It was an odd feeling indeed.

He placed the file on her desk, trying his best not to let it make a loud thud with its weight, and slightly wincing when it did. She had anticipated this and stopped scribbling for just a second as to not allow the bump to disturb her writing. It was a good thing too, she couldn't allow even a tiny mistake, even on her notes, even on such trivial reports. Her mind simply wouldn't allow it.

Sarah looked up at him in the cold demeanor she was heralded for, the same demeanor which made her few friends and gave her ample promotion. Ryan was his name, she didn't know as much from memory, but rather from reading the security tag all interns were forced to wear on a sling around their necks. Her eyes lingered on the thin blue chord, she found this to be odd, too.

"Is there anything else I can do for you ma'am?" he asked in a nervous, fidgety voice that made her think of how prey must talk to a predator. I'd like you to explain to me why I'd like your various appendages between my legs. Sarah mused to herself.

"That's all for now Ryan, thank you, you may go back to your work." With a dismissive wave of her hand, he left from her office, willing himself out as much as walking, she was sure. It was only after the door closed behind him that she felt the warm rush of blood to her face, exhaling a sigh as though she had been holding her breath this whole time. Maybe she had. There was a raw energy about her body she wasn't too familiar with, but knew it well enough to know that the next few minutes will be spent putting her fingers to work in ways she was familiar with.

The leather chair creaked slightly as she reclined in it, and it could have echoed in her empty office for only the plants to hear, just as they were the only audience for what, in her opinion, was an oddly out of character activity. Her hand had held its grasp on the pencil, but had turned it, the hard, pink eraser making contact with her soft, black underwear. Sarah didn't know when her free hand had pulled up her beige skirt, but wasn't in the mood to ask it. That hand had other work to do, and it would be rude of her to interrupt it.

As her legs spread, finding rests against the edge of her desk, her breathing slightly picked up as the pencil did its magic. There wasn't much resistance to the fabric, which must have meant her body was ready for this act before she had even considered it. It liked to betray her like that, just like her slowly hardening nipples, grazing the fabric of the B-Cup brazier she recently bought, had made the electricity in her body spark even more. It wasn't long before the pencil rubbing against her now swollen clit, simply wasn't enough, and she had to use her fingers to do the erotic tricks they were so good at.

Her eyes flickered for a moment at the telephone sitting on her neatly organized desk, she could lean over, she thought, and pressed just one button. Oh Ryan, could you please come into my office, I need your help again. Oh and lock the door behind you when you come in. This made her laugh, softly of course, she couldn't risk him actually hearing her, but the thought...

It was enough to send her over the edge, her body shivered and shook for a few spastic moments, and Sarah's legs slumped weakly to the ground. During her strange activity, she noticed, her shoes had come off. She leaned back in her chair, feeling her warm, undoubtedly sticky, juices run down her legs. It was a big one, she thought. I won't be able to go much longer anymore. The thought of calling in her intern crossed her mind again, and it was just as quickly ejected. Not in the workplace, not in her office. But maybe...

As her mind drifted again, she couldn't help but think, that the simple view of her interns manhood, pressing against the crotch of his pants, could make her feel this way. It also occurred to her, that she'd forgotten his name already, his tag resting around his collar was beyond her now.

Still, this was an odd feeling, and she would have to do something about this feeling. Sarah reached over to her desk drawer, removed a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and breathed deeply. She disliked smoking, she didn't enjoy the taste. It was a habit she had learned in college to cope with the stress at the time, but she had trouble kicking it. It didn't fit her image, she thought.

In that same drawer, there was a fresh pair of underwear, and stockings as well. The ones she had on were not going to suit her walking between her staff. And another odd feeling, with an even stranger thought attached to it like insistent luggage, and had crept into her mind.