Sunshine Yellow Skirt

Author note: This story was written for the 750 Word Project 2024, below this line are exactly 750 words:

I knew exactly what I was doing. It was his birthday, after all.

My ass was right there in his face as I bent over the desk, reading through the draft presentation of the last financial year's results. I could see his expression, reflected in the glossy surface of the black bezel around the computer monitor. I arched my back another few degrees and a look of pure pain flashed across his features.

My deep, dark brunette mane, curled into loose waves this morning, with just a subtle chocolate brown balayage to bring out the colour, fell down to the waistband of my skirt and did no harm to the overall picture. But it was that skirt which was doing the heavy lifting. The focus of the moment. Centre stage. The leading lady.

Sunshine yellow was the right way to describe it. As obnoxious as yellows came. I'd even paired it with a sky blue blouse to really hammer the point home. It reached mid-thigh and it was hard to claim it was appropriate office attire. I'd had to wear black tights underneath to at least make an effort not to look like I was obviously dressing slutty. But nobody with any sense would ask too many questions about the boss's daughter's skirt. And it was tight. Oh, so tight. It was stretched to the limit over my ass, leaving a perfect peachy outline for him to admire.

Had I posed like this in front of the mirror before leaving for work? I'm not ashamed to say yes I had. I wanted to make sure that, whilst I was teasing him, I wasn't showing off everything down there. He still needed to use his imagination for some things. Especially regarding which pair of knickers I'd slipped up my thighs that morning. I knew. He didn't.

The heels helped too. What woman doesn't know that wearing heels makes your ass look better? Mine were black and understated. I didn't want them to take away from the star of the picture. I didn't mind a show stopper heel but today they were in the supporting cast. I kept my shoes squarely together on the cheap office carpet, thus keeping my thighs pressed close and my bum at the perfect angle.

I drew a finger slowly and delicately under my ear, down to the nape of my neck, feigning a slight irritation there whilst in fact just flicking my hair and drawing his eye. I didn't look round, but in the tiny reflection of him in the bezel he looked as if he was suffering from an acute affliction. An acute ass affliction, it seemed. That suffering was just delicious. I lapped it up. He was the proverbial putty in my hand.

With the utmost nonchalance I bent one of my knees, shifting one nylon-clad thigh a few inches in front of the other, my hips tilting to one side, the sunshine skirt riding up half an inch. It was a move I'd carefully practised in the mirror. It looked incredible. He looked pale and sweaty, like he was in the middle of suffering a heart attack. Invisibly to him, I bit my lip. This was so much fun.

Oops. How did that paperclip get knocked onto the floor? Better just bend down there and pick it up before someone treads on it. Why yes, I can touch the floor without bending my knees. Something he had just discovered from his front row seat. I stood up, replaced the paperclip on the desk, and walked away, satisfied with the draft. I tossed my head and glanced over my shoulder at him. He looked punch drunk, his eyes unfocused, fingers gripping the desk with the desperation of a man who knows he's in too deep. He'd come up against the heavyweight champion and was coming off worse.

What a way to treat a man on his birthday, of all days. Don't worry: when he finally stumbled away from his desk at five, after eight hours of being mesmerised, teased and toyed with, and got back home, his present would be waiting. Waiting on his bed, tied up with a bow, wearing a sunshine yellow skirt and nothing else. Plus a note telling him he could work off that pent-up frustration by doing anything he wanted to my ass. And when I said anything, I meant anything. Absolutely. Anything.

It would take me hours to get the stains out of the skirt. Worth every second.