On The Job... At Last!

Patti was at her desk when I arrived at the office for the last time. She was alone – the company had been liquidated and we had been retrenched.

I was simply collecting a cheque for the closing balance of a cash trust account I had held as an employee. We had been retrenched two weeks ago and I was unemployed, as were most of my dozen or so colleagues.

Patti was dressed in her usual simple but stylish way: she wore a black pleated skirt and a cream satin blouse, black shoes and white socks. It was her posture that hinted of what would ensue over the next hour.

Sliding her office chair away from her workstation, Patti spread her legs wide apart, leaving her skirt draped between her knees. She also wore a coquettish smile; we liked each other but were too shy to admit it – or act upon it until this point.

It only took a few minutes for Patti to print off a cheque and close my account; the entire cash fund would be closing soon. I realised this would probably be the last time we would be together; certainly alone and with such an opportunity to fulfill our hidden desires.

"Let's go into Ed's office," I suggested, thinking fast. "We should check the whole office before we leave," I added unconvincingly.

Ed was the boss – State Manager Victoria was his official title. But like the other 11 of us in the Melbourne Office, a small outpost of a Sydney-based finance company, Ed was also out of a job.

"Okay Matt," Patti replied.

Patti knew this was a pretext to get us alone but readily agreed. I just didn't know what we would do first once we were into the boss's spacious office with its bar, upholstered couch and large, leather covered desk.

It was only mid-morning and too early to suggest a drink – even for me. I soon realised I needed another excuse for us to spend time in the office.

I was not ready to start talking about our time at the company: the insular nature of the small office, the stress of the unit trust collapse that the company had presided over, and which killed it, the phone calls from distressed and angry investors, and finally the stress of losing our jobs. It was time for some fun and I sensed Patti felt the same way.

It was then that a strange idea occurred to me. "I know, let's play bosses and job applicants," I said. "What on earth are you talking about," Patti replied sceptically.

"Well, I'll sit behind Eddy's desk and interview you for your job," I said. "It'll be fun."

A smile widened across Patti's face, "OK Matt, but I need to freshen up first."

As Patti went out to the bathroom, I reflected on the three years I had worked for the company and the final 18 months when Patti had been there. She had brightened up a tough time when the unit trust meltdown occurred, and I wanted to thank her.

We hadn't done anything together except go out for a few drinks occasionally with some of the others, but she was fun to be around, and an antidote to the office politics of the place and the viperish nature of some of her colleagues.

While I was alone in the office, I rearranged the furniture, placing one of the two upright chairs in front of the desk with its back to the desk and to one side; Patti would find out why soon enough. I also checked the bar, deciding that it was close enough to the weak October sun being over the yard arm for a drink.

As luck would have it, there was a half-full bottle of Tequila left in the bar cabinet – "Yes!" I thought: it was Patti's drink of choice, although she usually drank it with milk.

I found two tumblers and poured us a finger each. It was not my drink but it would do. Apparently, Ed had taken the Scotch but someone else could have the Tequila. I then remembered to lock the office door: we didn't want any unexpected visitors.

I then carried the glasses back to the desk and slid into Eddy's luxurious high-backed chair. Apparently, Eddy's lavish office was the envy of even the managing director, whose Sydney office was not as well-appointed, but I had not seen it or even been to the Sydney corporate headquarters.

I went by the title "trust manager" but had not been to head office where all the expertise was based.

Like a lot of things about the company, it was anomalous and misleading. One final preparation was to close the vertical blinds opposite the desk so we couldn't be seen from the building opposite. We were on the 12th floor, but I was still a little self-conscious about what was unfolding.

I was thinking about my "interview" questions for Patti when she entered the room. She had undone a button and I also caught a whiff of perfume that I hadn't noticed before.

"Sit down," I said indicating the chair. "Guess what? I found some Tequila left."

"I don't usually have it straight," Patti said.

"I don't usually have it at all," I replied. "Why don't we just skol?"

With that, we emptied our tumblers. Patti grimaced but drank every drop and licked her lips in appreciation of the fiery Mexican liqueur. It was a bit sweet for me.

"Sorry I can't find a mixer for it," I said. I then got the ball rolling. "So why do you want to work for this company?"

"Because the job was advertised and I want a bloody job," Patti said before bursting into laughter. The freedom to be honest in a job interview was strangely liberating and was relaxing us as much as the Tequila. I laughed too.

Patti's job was mainly data entry, there was also some reception work and general office duties, like filing. Such entry level jobs got very scarce in the next two decades.

"So what do you want to do," I continued. "Earn some money to have some holidays and move out of home," Patti replied coolly. I decided the interview needed to change tack.

Patti was probably looking to become independent enough to enjoy her single life and then get married, but career was probably not a priority.

"By the way, you can smoke in this interview," I said passing an ashtray to the other side of the desk. "Thanks", said Patti, relieved. She lit up and gave me an encouraging smile.

"Go on, I find this entertaining," she teased me.

"Okay, so do you have any special skills," I ventured.

"I can do some great things with my tongue," Patti replied, rolling her tongue into a groove. "And I'm not bad at the Lambada."

That was the Latin dance craze then sweeping the world.

We then slipped out of interview mode and chatted about what we would do next with our lives, our recent holidays and whether we had any "significant others" in our lives – a clear negative in my case.

Patti had been to Bali in the past year and I thought there was a boyfriend, but she gave me the "he's just a friend" line. Whatever. We were alone now and I was not about to start a significant relationship when I had no idea what I was doing with my life.

Unlike me, Patti had been offered alternative employment at another company as part of the winding-up process. As it turned out, it was only short-term – a matter of several weeks as a temp.

Some more personal questions seemed appropriate at this point. "Did you write this and put it on my desk?"

I produced an envelope from my back pocket and pulled out a typed letter that read: "Dear Matt, I would like to get to know you and your g-string a little better – Lift Admirer."

Stapled to it was a magazine picture of a woman clad only in lingerie. Obviously, I was meant to know I had an anonymous admirer.

But the writer had not come forward. I couldn't resist showing my colleague Andrew, who had burst into laughter. I don't know why anyone thought I wore a g-string though.

It could have got both of us into trouble but happily this was a time when such innocent indiscretions from young employees of either sex were usually brushed aside.

Nowadays a major sexual harassment case could have ensued, all the more landmark for the "harassment" coming from a female employee.

"Well, I wrote that, Matt," Patti admitted.

"OK Well now I know," I responded. "And I have just one more question: Are you on the pill?"

"Yes," she answered. "Now I have a question for you: Why did you draw the blinds in here? Are you a creature of the night?"

I then stood up and tried to resume the role-play of the hiring manager.

"Patti, I want you to know that in this office I am not prepared to ask an employee to do anything that I am not prepared to do myself. So when I ask you to take off your blouse, I will take off my shirt."

Patti ashed her cigarette and stood up too, following my lead in unbuttoning her blouse to reveal a pink bra encasing small firm breasts, probably an A cup. I didn't say anything as I then took off my jeans, and shoes.

Patti needed no encouragement to unzip her skirt and step out of it, still in her shoes and socks. She put her clothes on the coffee table behind her.

We stood there a moment until I motioned to the other chair and asked Patti to step up on to the chair and from there to the desk, while I settled back into the boss's chair.

I was treating myself to my own private strip show, but Patti seemed to be having as much fun as me as she strutted back and forth in her pink bra and matching knickers. She was 21 and had a firm, slim body, olive skin and titian hair – typically Mediterranean looks.

She was a typical young secretary, popular and fun-loving. I was in my late 20s ... but still relatively inexperienced in relationships.

After a couple of minutes of this, I stood up so my head was level with her thighs. I motioned to Patti to squat and as she did so pulled her panties down, revealing a dark-haired, slightly shaved pudendum.

We hadn't even kissed at this point but that came now as Patti sat on the edge of the desk.

Wrapping my arms around her we buried our tongues in each others mouths while I fiddled with her bra straps. Finally freeing her breasts, I threw her bra to the side; it hit the closed blinds, as if making clear why I had closed them. I also pulled off her shoes, knowing there would soon be some contact sport going on.

Patti then lay down on the desk, pulled her feet up and apart on the edge of the desk and slid back slightly.

"Go on, use your tongue," she encouraged.

I did as I was told; it was the first time I had gone down on a woman. I buried my face between her thighs and slowly licked my way north along her labia to her clit. This was well before the days of the Brazilian wax and I tried to navigate with my tongue to avoid as much of her bush as I could.

By now I was rock hard and slid my jocks off. I was ready to enter her in a standing position, but Patti had other ideas.

"Not yet, I'm going down on you now; get on the desk." I climbed up on the desk and lay on my back. Kneeling next to my head, Patti started kissing my chest and licking her way southwards.

When she reached my cock, she flicked her tongue around the head and down the shaft to my balls, which she took into her mouth. "I told you I could do good things with my tongue," she muttered, before swallowing my manhood as far as her tonsils would allow.

Meanwhile, I had run my hand up her inside thigh and was stroking her moist labia. She then surprised me by lifting her left leg over my head, locking us into the 69 position, where my tongue now had unrestricted access to her labia and perineum. When I ejected some pre-cum I knew I would soon shoot my load so I called Patti to stop.

She sat up, still astride me and inched her way along my torso so we were in a reverse cowgirl position. She was about to sit down on my cock, but I decided I wanted to see her face so I asked her to spin around.

Sliding my member into her moist pussy, she leaned forward so I could cup her boobs in my hands. We lasted only about a minute in this embrace before I came, and watching Patti's face quiver, I knew we were having the much sought-after simultaneous orgasm.

Afterwards we lay on the ample desk for about five minutes to recover our breath. Still covered in cum, we then went to gather our clothes.

Patti was shocked when I went to wipe myself with her knickers but I had one more surprise for the day. Reaching into my jeans pocket, I pulled out a small soft package and passed it to her.

"These are for you," I said, "consider it an early Christmas present". Patti then unwrapped a black, lacy g-string.

"You seem to have an interest in lingerie so I thought it was appropriate," I added.

She laughed and thanked me. I then passed over her knickers so she could clean herself before trying on her first Christmas gift for the year. After getting dressed, we were faced with the disposal of the knickers.

I remembered that a few years earlier, it emerged that a federal government minister had had sex with his wife on his desk and she had left her knickers on the desk for some hapless public servant to find.

I wanted to do likewise, leaving them for a liquidator to find in a desk drawer as a token of our esteem for the failed company. Sensibly, Patti scotched this plan: she thought they could easily be traced to her and had her future employment to consider.

We found a plastic bag for them and took the Tequila bottle out to the office kitchenette where we gargled the last of it as a mouthwash. We then locked up the office, got into the lift and headed out to a nearby pub for lunch, dropping the plastic bag into a bin.

I saw Patti only twice after that. We had coffee once and, early the next year, I called into her parents' greengrocer store where she was working.

We decided our worlds were too far apart for a relationship and I wanted to travel to Europe again while I still had a working visa for the UK. But I will always remember with a smug grin the last day in the office.