Petty Cash Ch. 02

Sarah

That week hung like a boulder around my neck. I felt horrible and I know Dean could tell something was up. I had to explain away the phone call I made to him at work, make up some lie, I don't even remember what. He believed it though. He always believes my lies.

We would usually have sex a few times a week, but I'd been begging off each night. I couldn't get the memory of Munroe out of my mind. His dark eyes as he looked down at me. The musty smell of his aftershave. The salty tang of his heavy cock lying on my tongue. That joyful agony shuddering across his face as his orgasm approached. The honey-sweet taste as he came in my mouth. The heat in my throat as I swallowed it all.

I'd never felt so powerless before. Usually I would talk to Dean when I was feeling upset, but I couldn't talk to him about this. I knew he'd do something drastic, like freak out and murder Munroe. Then we'd be even worse off.

I avoided Munroe as much as I could that week. After two days, I realized the situation was untenable. I started working on my resume that night. I had to get out of that job. As I typed away at my computer, a sardonic thought crossed my mind: I wonder if Munroe will give me a letter of recommendation. I chuckled to myself.

Then a darker thought: what if he badmouthed me to every place I applied. Pretty much all my experience came from working for him. This job was the only serious entry on my resume. Shit.

Friday morning. Early. Waiting for the elevator. The lobby had the marble sheen and gaudy, warmed-over-shit aesthetic of the early 80s. All gold and brown. The company could probably afford space in a better building now, but this was all we could afford when we started out.

I'd been coming in early so I could leave before 5. It made it easier to avoid Munroe that way. The elevator dinged, doors opened and I stepped inside. Pressed the button for 16th floor. Waited. A little whirring noise and the doors started closing.

Just before they were fully closed, a hand snaked in. The doors reversed course, sprung back, reopening. I looked up to see who it...Munroe. Fuck. He stared into my eyes as he stepped on the elevator.

He somehow seemed taller. Or more massive. I felt my body tense. A fear rise up through me as I casually shuffled over into the corner. He pressed the door close button and stood silently next to me.

The musty smell of his aftershave filled the elevator. My skin prickled. Light headed. The whole elevator suddenly shifted his way, as if gravity was pulling me down to him. I held onto the railing to steady myself and watched, horrified, as the floor numbers ticked by at an ungodly slow pace. 2......3.......4.......5.......7.........8.......

My mouth felt dry and I licked my lips. I didn't want to look at him, but as we inched past floor 12, I worked up enough courage to give him a sidelong glance. But he was just staring forward.

Ding! Finally! The 16th floor. The longest elevator ride of my life. I waited for him to exit. But instead he turned and looked me up and down.

"Join me in my office," he commanded, raising his arm to indicate that I was to lead the way.

I looked at him for a moment. Stubble. He hadn't shaved today. I looked out of the elevator, looking for...an escape? All I saw was the cleaning crew, three men and one women, all Hispanic and as regular as a clock. Looked back at Munroe.

The elevator doors started closing. He pressed the door open button and they retracted again.

"Go," he said.

I feigned confidence. Stepped out of the elevator. Two of the cleaners looked up at us. I wish I'd bothered to learn their names. Could they help me? I wonder if they even spoke English. Too late, we were at his office. He unlocked the door and I followed him inside. The door shut behind me.

He rounded his desk and proceeded to start his computer. Then he unlocked a desk drawer, reached in and pulled out an expensive looking camera. He turned the camera on and looked up at me.

"Put your arms on the back of your head," he commanded.

"No." I spat back. He looked at me, unfazed.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

"I don't have to do what you say anymore. I don't care what you have..."

"The video of you embezzling money from my company? Forget the cops. What do you think your husband and family would think of that?" he asked, bemused. He called my bluff. Only one choice—double down.

"They won't care. Dean won't care. He loves me. And no video will change that!" He smiled and nodded at me, then reached into his desk and pulled out a tabletop tripod. He attached the camera to it and set it on his desk so it was angled it at me.

Then he started typing something into his computer.

"Well do you think Dean will still love you after he sees this video?" He turned his monitor around so it faced me.

Shit. I looked up at the ceiling, trying to find...there it was, off in the corner. A small, unobtrusive black dome. A camera. I watched the me on the monitor walk around Munroe's desk and crouch down between my legs. He'd somehow blurred his own face out, but mine was still plainly visible. My hand reached into his pants...

"So as I said," he interrupted, pausing the video, "hands on your head."

I stared into his eyes. It was almost as if I could see the scheming malevolence oozing from his irises. I thought I was afraid of him enough before, but I had clearly underestimated him.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!

I took a deep breath.

My arms trembled as I lifted them up, bending my elbows. I placed my hands behind my head. My fingers slid into each other. Interlocking. Munroe never took his eyes off me as he circled around the desk, walking in front of me, closer. Closer still. Inches. I could feel his warm breath on my face. Smell it.

Fuck him, even his breath smelled good.

"You're going to enjoy this," he whispered. He stepped to the side and pulled a small remote from his pocket. Flash! Bright white light suddenly blinding me. He'd used the remote to take a picture of me.

He stepped back in front of me and started unbuttoning my blouse from top to bottom. Slowly. Deliberately. Exposing my flesh to the cool air. Lower. Lower. Button after button. All the way to the bottom.

He grabbed the fabric and pulled violently up, untucking my blouse from my skirt. Lifted the blouse up, pulling it off my arms, and threw it on the floor next to his desk. My arms back on my head.

"Nice bra," he uttered while snapping the next photo. In the turmoil of the week, I hadn't had time to do laundry, so the only clean underwear I had left were my fancy things. The stuff I wore for Dean on his birthday. Sexy. Lacy. Black.

He walked behind me and grabbed my skirt waist, the zipper. His thick fingers on the small of my back. Lowering. The dull whisk of the zipper. His fingers traveling lower, down my butt. A looseness at my waist and the skirt dropped to the floor.

"Step out of it," he said, snapping another photo. I did as he commanded. "Kick it over with your blouse." I did.

He snapped several pictures in a row of me standing there in nothing but my bra and panties, hands on my head in the middle of his office.

"Lower your arms." Again I did what he said. My arms felt like dead weight hanging at my sides.

He circled back behind me again. I couldn't keep my eyes open. His breath on my neck. Inhaling my scent. Deeply. I waited for him to touch me. Caress. Something. Anything. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. Tingling from my head to my toes.

His fingers on my spine. Gentle. Forceful. Working their way up. The length of my back. Shudder. My bra. Clasp. Thick fingers underneath. Pulling. Lift. Pressure. Release. Tickling my shoulder. Both shoulders. Sliding down.

I looked down as he exposed my breasts. The cool air kissing my flesh. Hardening my nipples. Threw the bra over with the rest of my clothes and snapped several more photos.

In my face again. His aftershave wafting. Skin tingling flesh electric. God, what was he doing to me? How was I letting this happen? Eye to eye.

"Are you ready for this?" he breathed. Something inside me screamed yes! But I held my tongue. I wasn't supposed to be doing this! Wasn't supposed to be getting this thrill!

Kneeling down in front of me. Hands on my thighs. Inside. Working up. Teasing. Past my crotch. On my stomach. Thumbs curled under. Hooking the fabric. Slowly. Inching downward. Lower. Tingling between my legs. Rustling fabric. Dropping. Wet. Over my hips. Down. My thighs. Lowering. My pubic hair peeking out. Panties falling. Past my knees! Ankles! His breath on my labia!

My vagina was completely exposed. Vulnerable. Right at his eye level. He was staring at it. Staring at my exposed pussy. A shiver ran down my spine. Body pulsing. Heat. Blushing cheeks. Licking lips. Moaning.

"You're soaking wet." He looked up at me, then back down at my pussy. It was true. I was. I could feel my wetness. Feel my arousal. I wanted him to stick his tongue out. I wanted him to lean forward and lick me...

Flash. Pictures snapped. His face was so close. My hips reflexively thrust forward. But just a bit. Not enough to touch him. He stood. Showed me my panties. The wet spot in the crotch. Another flash. He walked over and dropped my panties on the pile of clothes.

"Sit." He commanded. Oh God, he's going to fuck me. He's going to fuck me right here in his office. He's forcing me to cheat on Dean! Make a cuckold of him before we're even married!

I turned and sat in the armchair near me. He picked the camera up from his desk and moved over in front of me, snapping pictures the whole time. I could see the bulge growing in his pants. The large bulge getting larger.

"Hook your legs over the arm rests." I pulled my knees up and hitched them over the sides of the chair. He snapped a photo.

My pussy was splayed open to him. My wetness running down, pooling on the chair.

Images flashed through my head. Fantasies. His clothes in a matching pile next to his desk. Naked. Chest broad and strong. Erect penis. Heavy balls. Virile. Lowering himself towards me. Holding his fat swollen cock by the base. Rubbing it up and down my wet slit.

Putting the swollen cock head just inside my vagina...

"Rub yourself." He was inside my head. My hands were already down there. Finger on my clit. Rubbing. Up and down. Circling. Back and forth. I was already past halfway there. Flash! Looking into the camera! Flash!

Breath! Breathe! Rubbing! Clitoris tingling warm! Rushing blood! Head back! Mouth open! Lips! Dry!

Flash flash! Images of him thrusting forward. Nibbling my ear. In and out. Kissing me. Tongue in my mouth. In and out. Swelling. Filling me full. Stretching me wonderfully!

Flash! Flash! Reality. Finger on my clit. Frantic rubbing! A blur for a hand! Tingling! Rubbing up and down! Up and down! Circling! Toes pointing! Muscles tensing! Closer....closer....here it comes! Here it comes!

Cumming!

Cumming hard!

Cloudy chemicals flowing. Cumming hard, naked on the armchair as my boss takes pictures of me in the middle of his office!

Stomach contracting. Juices oozing. Staring straight into my boss's eyes though the camera lens as snapped dozens of photos of me and my flushed body convulsing with orgasm. Moaning. A loud moaning sound.

Me. I was the one moaning loudly.

I closed my mouth, stifling the moan. My wits began to return to me. Shit that was loud. The cleaning crew must have heard that. Munroe snapped another photo, then lowered the camera.

As I melted into the chair, catching my breath, he walked over to his desk. He picked up my bra and panties and placed them inside his desk drawer. Then he locked it.

"If you don't want these photos to get out," he held up the camera, "you'll never wear a bra or panties to work again, got it?" In my haze I nodded. "Now get dressed."

I hauled my self out of the chair and over to what remained of my pile of clothes. I turned my back to him as I slipped on my skirt and buttoned my blouse. Looking down, my nipples were clearly visible poking through the thin fabric.

I walked over to the door and opened it. Waiting on the other side of the door was the entire cleaning crew, three men and one woman, all staring at me with smiles on their faces.

I pushed past them and made my way to the bathroom and into a stall. I pulled off a huge wad of toilet paper and reached up my skirt to dry all the fluids leaking from my pussy before they soaked through the skirt.

***

Munroe

I quickly downloaded the photos to my computer, scanning through and marking the good ones. The one of her as she came...the look on her face...damn! I could make millions of dollars off of this photo.

This was going to be easier than I thought.

*******

This is the second chapter of a longer story that I already have planned out and am in the process of writing.

So please, give me feedback! I really appreciate it! Especially from my fellow ladies, as that is the target demographic I'm looking at. Plus I'm always looking for more female erotica pen pals!

I'm also looking for a proof reader/editor if anyone is interested. Please let me know!