The Excuse

My name is Anna. I'm a relatively new hire at a moderately sized business company. To be honest, I'm not even sure what we do here other than paperwork and internal memos between our different teams every now and then.

I have been with this company for under a year, but with that in mind, I recently asked my boss if I could transfer to another team, seeing as my current one was overcrowded and that perhaps they needed the manpower elsewhere. I can't believe it worked, too. Then again, it was difficult to say no to a girl who intentionally left one too many buttons open on her blouse.

I should fill you in about me. I hit 30 a year ago. Curvy, fair skin, green eyes behind fake prescription glasses. I have a bit of a belly but I was assured that alot of men like that in a woman.

As for my hair, I'm a noirette, and I wear it in a feathered pixie cut.

I'm also divorced. I have full custody of my son, Peter, whom I decided should have a better life than mine. The private school I picked for him had very high standards and an excellent track record when it comes to post graduation employment and college admittance.

Only problem is, naturally, it costs a fortune.

Between the alimony and whatever I manage to save up from up my salary, I have handled it. However, with each coming year, the fees keep escalating. Peter graduates from primary school this year and the cost of their 'Middle School' left me in a bit of a panic.

I figured if I convinced my boss that I should be transferred to a less crowded department I would have an excuse to ask for overtime. My new superior, Kevin, is a recent promotion. He's soft spoken, seemingly kind, and tends to keep to himself.

Did some digging. Late 30's, and it turned out that he never married nor had anyone over at work during functions. If he was a lonely man then that would suit my needs just fine.

If I made sure to show a bit more cleavage and wear a skirt that's just slightly tighter than my actual size, I could have him eating out of my hand in no time.

Our first interaction had him awkwardly darting his eyes around not wanting to stare while also trying to put up a confident front. He didn't stand a chance.

Over the following weeks, I've realised that the reason there weren't that many people in this department was because the work was more or less non-existent. Besides the occasional memo and spreadsheet, there wasn't much to do. If I am to convince Kevin to grant me overtime I would need to pretend I'm swamped; that I'm handling more tasks than even the ones he's allocating to me.

Cut to this morning.

I walked in on Kevin as he was on a phone call and I gestured if I were to come by later or wait in his office. With a hint of nerves as his eyes registered it was me, I saw him gesture back for me to sit down.

My initial plan was to ask him if he wanted anything else done when the opportunity presented itself: He was promising someone on the phone to have a some calculations done by tomorrow morning. Something urgent, I guess. I waited till he hung up and immediately pounced on the task.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, it was Dean, from R&D. They wanted to propose the construction of a new facility and they needed the budget breakdown ready by tomorrow in time for upper management's meeting."

"Wait he only just told you about it?"

"Yeah, they were too busy with their designs and thought they had another week."

I knew Dean was full of shit, but gift horses or whatever.

"I can take care of that," I spritely offered, "you already have that project report coming up and I'll be honest, I could use the overtime!"

I punctuated my sentence with a slight giggle. He politely smiled.

"That would... actually be great, Ms. Anna," he happily replied, "but I wouldn't want you to take on too much work."

"It's ok, honest," I slightly cooed, "I've been meaning to ask you if I could stay behind anyway, I have a report that I needed to go over and I didn't have the time today."

"Oh, well that settles it. I guess we can apply for overtime for today."

It didn't sit right with me, the 'today' bit.

"I've been meaning to ask," I started again, "with all the work we have and with very few employees in our department, I don't think they would mind if we stayed behind every now and then."

"Oh, I don't know about that... I don't want management to get a wrong impression. You know how they are with the company funds and all."

"Trust me, Kevin, we really need it."

I could see the subtle look of confusion in his face.

"We do?"

"Yes. If we are to make sure we are on time with everything they throw at us, what's a little overtime every now and then?"

He didn't seem to be entirely convinced, but was hesitant when I faked my assertion.

"OK, I'll see what I can do." he finally relented, after giving it a bit of thought.

Promoted employees tend to generally fall under two categories.

The first, are those who seek to fully exploit their newfound privileges. They'd fully sink into being horrible dirtbags who immediately try to push the boundaries of what they can get away with. They are invariably insufferable.

The second, are those who take their newfound status in stride and more or less remain the same; hard-working or otherwise.

There's also a secret third category. There's the kind of person that is so worried about keeping their new post that they develop a sort of phobia around it. People of this category act as though they're on a perpetual trial period. They can be unbearable, too, but for obviously different reasons.

Kevin falls squarely under category 3. In his case, he tends to lack any kind of confidence when it comes to doing his work, which is beyond frustrating when he is more capable than the majority of his peers.

I was pondering this 'ordeal' as I finished up the budget report. Simple enough, I was done well before 5:00, but I obviously had to pretend I was still dilligently typing away.

An hour later and Kevin passed by my office. I made sure to keep the door wide open even though I usually tended not to. It worked; Kevin doubled back.

"Ms. Anna, you're still here?"

"Hmm?" I murmur before I moving my eyes from my screen, "yeah, still working on that budget. I think I'll be done in like 30 minutes or so."

"Oh, well I appreciate that. I'm off to file something then... I guess head home."

It dawned on him that he was going to let me stay behind while he took off. A pang of guilt flashed across his face.

"Don't worry about it," I laughed, "like I said, I asked for this."

"Alright..." he replied, defeatedly.

I pretended to be typing for a couple of minutes just in case he, or anyone else, was still there.

It was finally quiet.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I got up and stretched. I now needed to kill another hour or so before I punched out.

Peter was at his grandmother's for the day... I planned ahead, for once.

God, Petey, the things I do just to see your snotty little face smile.

Ever since the divorce, taking care of my son has been the only thing. My sex life was put on hold indefinitely, and it was kind of amusing, given how I dressed around the office. Imagine the lady with the tight pencil skirt, the high heels, and the unbuttoned shirt that shows off her gratuitous cleavage, being sexless. I found out that pretending to be intimidating works just as well as actually being it, so the air I put on of being this weathered badass put the biggest skeptic at ease.

Wouldn't it be really funny if I just rubbed one out while on the clock?

I slowly spun my chair around so that I wasn't facing the door anymore, and had a long hard stare at my gray pencil skirt. It was basically my partner in crime. A size too small, sure, but my butt looked fantastic in it. It was such a rush noticing the glances I get whenever I passed by someone. I would often catch their heads spinning around from the corner of my eye.Down, boys.

Ofcourse, I made sure to not move my legs too much, as I worried it would ride up if I took too big a step.

I began to gently open my legs. Little by little, more of my thighs met the fluorescent glow.

How romantic.

I kept going until I was practically spread eagle. Like some female chimp exposing her genitals to a potential mate.

I was wearing my blue lace panties; no particular reason other than that it gave me the confidence that I needed for today. My other partner in crime, I suppose.

I inched my hand towards my crotch and gently pressed two fingers on my mound.

A gasp escaped me. I realised I haven't had the chance to masturbate in months.

My mind trailed off...

For a while now, it was just me and Petey. My relationship with my parents was rocky, but I had to swallow my pride and ask them to look after my son every once in a while.

This recent arrangement would have allowed more time for myself, had it not been for the fact that I needed to get more money for Petey's sake.

I snapped back to the issue at hand.

I slowly began drawing circles around my crotch, being careful not to stimulate my clit too much. My free hand found it's way to my chest. My breasts were tingling. I was blessed with a pair of DD's that were my main weapon to get shit done. I wore a white bra today because I didn't want to seem *too* intimidating. Not today atleast.

My offhand then trailed under my blouse and I felt my nipples begin to poke at the inside of the cups. I could feel my panties begin to dampen... when I suddenly heard a rustle outside.

I jolted up straight and quickly pulled my skirt down and adjusted my shirt.

"Ms. Anna, I-"

Kevin was back.

WHAT NOW? my brain screamed. As I sat back down and spun around.

"Oh, did you forget something?"

"Uh, no. I just felt bad leaving you to stay behind while I got to go home. You know, with your son and all."

Goddammit, Kevin.

"Oh, don't worry about it, I called ahead and had my mother pick him up."

"Ah, that's good... th-that's good," he stuttered, "still, do you need any help? We can probably get it done quicker if the two of us work on it."

"No I-" and before I was able to finish he walked over and looked at the monitor.

"Oh..." he exclaimed, "you're done? Why didn't you send it yet?"

"No, I wanted to go over it a few more times, just to make sure everything's good."

"Then why did you attach it to an email already?"

That caught me off-guard. Usually, little Kevin was alot more agreeable... what's with the 20 questions?

"Oh, you know me, I usually jump the gun." I blatantly lied. If anything, I established much earlier how 'meticulous' I usually am. I thought that kind of reputation would serve me, but I guess, not this time; his face continued to display his increasing skepticism.

After a couple of seconds, he sat down.

"Ms. Anna, what's going on?"

That question felt like a punch to the gut.What? Kevin? Meek little Kevin of all people is about to reprimand me? THE NERVE

"What do you mean?" I answered, evasively. His weathered face started to drop.

"Why did you ask to sit behind when you already finished it?"

"Well, like I said I--"

"Ms. Anna," he interrupted. Kevin hunched forward slightly in his chair, "what's this about?"

My mind was burning out trying to accept my current predicament. How can I explain that I needed 2 hours of overtime for something that I completed in 10 minutes?I was sure I had the little prick wrapped around my finger and now he's just sitting there interrogating me like I was some felon.

Meeting his dead-eyed gaze, my brain was in overdrive trying desperately to both accept and salvage the situation.

It was quiet, again.

I sat there, for a few seconds that seemed to stretch into hours.

Panicked, I opened my mouth without planning what to say.

"Well--"

"You know full well," he interrupted, "just how much of a pain it would be to ask upper management for overtime. You wanted me to go through all that AND to feel guilty about leaving you to stay late... for what?"

His voice was calm, but serrated.

I folded. Time for honesty.

"Listen, Kevin. I'm sorry about this, but I needed the overtime. My son has school fees piling up and I needed the money." I could feel my eyes get wet, but I dammed the flood back, "Don't worry about corporate, I can bury them with all sorts of justifications that they won't even bat an eye."

Kevin's stare slightly softened, to my relief.

But he was hurt. He was deeply hurt.

"I see."

"I'm sorry to put you through this, but I genuinely need this money." I repeat, hoping to soften him some more.

The air was dead once more.

Kevin seemed to ponder. He seemed to panic. His face bore an inner struggle. Turmoil would be putting it lightly.

The awkward silence was suffocating.

He finally got up.

"What's in it for me?"

My mind jammed.

"Beg your pardon?"

"What's in it for me? If you want to make this a regular habit, I would have to be the one who will face upper management whenever they ask about our finances.

"I repeat, what's in it for me?"

My mouth clenched up. I had nothing.

Kevin shut the door, locked it, and turned to face me, staring daggers.

Kevin was gone. His expression blank, the man who stood before me was a vengeful creature, capable of savagery.

He moved closer around my desk till he was next to me. My legs absentmindedly rotated my chair to face him while he did so, like I was tracking a clay pigeon.

He stood over me, inches away.

His eyes locked to mine... he seemed to hold his stare for a century, before letting his eyes wander down to my cleavage.

...Fuck.

Kevin was in his late thirties, his hair was messy but manageable. It was black, dusted gray, and never styled in any particular way. His arms and chest were strong and thick, but he was a bit chubby. His 'dad bod' filled his gray two piece suit quite thoroughly. His height was above average, but his build doesn't show it when you look at him in a vacuum. I once quipped the term 'Miniature gentle giant' and it sort of stuck to him, albeit in hushed murmurs.

He had a trimmed beard, and dark eyes that seemed to reflect a lonely kindness most of the time.

This time, his eyes were overrun by something else.

He reached out, and softly stroked my hair, letting his finger trail the outline of my face before stopping it at my lips. Never in a million years did I ever think Kevin would be this close to me, let alone stroke my hair or touch my face.

Atleast he was being gentle about it.

"I always thought you were pretty." He whispered.

This was kind of telegraphed, but it was still surprising to hear out loud. I acknowledge that he was cute, in that burly kinda way, but his personality was the main hurdle: The air of loneliness around him seemed like a solid barrier, counterintuitively. It made him an nonviable option... Or so I thought?

"Pull it out." He ordered.

"W-what?" I stammered.

"Pull it out." He repeated, nodding at his own crotch, before returning his gaze.

This isn't happening. This ISN'T HAPPENING! my mind screamed.

I brought my eyes down to his crotch, my mind racing, trying to brace for what was about to happen.

I slowly brought my hands up, and started to unbuckle his belt.

I looked up to him once more just to see if anything would change. It didn't.

I began to unhook his slacks, then gently unzip them.

Pulling the flaps apart, I was stunned to realise that he managed to adeptly hide his erection all this time. His member was throbbing and straining under his boxer briefs... Like a shackled beast. The head stained the fabric.

I then began pulling his underwear down ever-so-slowly, as if worried it would hurt him if I do it too quickly.

"That's it." He finally rasped, breaking the silence momentarily.

It was free.

Long. Thick. Curved. Cut. A wave of heat was emanating from it, as if it would burn to the touch.

The generous pre-cum that had stained his underwear was now making the head glisten.

It was then that my brain registered that I should breathe. His musk was intoxicating. As it filled my nostrils, my mind wandered off to my own mound... I could feel the dampness getting worse.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I didn't want him to think that he had any effect on me, but between my interrupted... 'session' and how his piece looked, smelled, and felt, it was only human that my bud was starting churn.

I looked up, expectantly hoping that he tells me what he wants. The feeling of him taking charge made me feel less culpable; I hated relinquishing control, but I needed to convince myself that I had no choice.

"Lick it." He commanded.

I looked back down. Lifting my hand back up, a pushed his member to face the ceiling, then calmly stuck my tongue out and began licking his shaft from base to tip. Long, deliberate strokes, careful not to touch his tip nor start at his testicles. Deep down I wanted an excuse to take a good whiff of his scrotum, but I still didn't want to seem eager.

After a couple of strokes, I pushed his penis sideways, and started licking his length again, as I was about to reach his head and taste his pre-cum, I got the urge to stare up at his face.

His eyes were closed. He was savouring the moment.

He was still in there. Somewhere.

I licked the tip. The taste was mild; not too strong, but not too watered down. I liked it.

I was now licking the entire shaft. Making sure to cover all sides of it and savouring any pre-cum his member produced.

My mind snapped back. I needed to make him cum. I needed to make him cum quick.

Hopefully this blowjob would be enough for him to be on my side from now on and leave me alone, said my optimism, pushing my cynicism back and away from view.

To my surprise... he brought his hand up to hold his penis. Pulling it up, he moved his hips forward. His testicles were now on my mouth.

"Suck them."

My heart almost gave out. I finally have an excuse to play with them.

I gently cupped my mouth around one half as I used my fingers to caress and tease the other before switching back and forth. They felt like big plums.

His musk was now making my head spin, and I felt like his balls were going to explode in my mouth right then and there. As my mind wondered how full they would be, he pulled away.

I quickly looked back at him, anticipating his next order.

"Stand up."

I froze.

No... no... no no no...

"I said stand up." He repeated.

I slowly got out of my chair and gracelessly stood in front of him. Careful not to touch his jutting member.

He began clearing out my keyboard, papers, stationary, and other knickknacks I had lying around, hastily rearranging my desk to leave a spot open.

"Sit up." He commanded.

"Now listen, Kev--"

"Sit up."

His commanding voice now had the slightest hint of a plea. My stomach fluttered. I slowly sat on the desk, my awkward angle meant my skirt is now hiking up as I try to balance myself on the edge of the desk.

He laid a gentle hand on my waist. And with his other, he pushed my skirt all the way up till my panties were now completely exposed.

I could tell he was taken aback by the daring blue lace before him. Something faltered behind his eyes.

As I laid there with my legs splayed open in front of him, he slowly knelt down. Putting his hands on the insides of my bare thighs, he took a deep whiff of my nether regions.

I saw him close his eyes for a moment, savouring me.

Slowly opening them again, he moved one hand across the front of my panties.

Oh crap.

As I felt him place his hand on me... he suddenly pulls it back, surprised.

Moisture.

Rubbing my juices on his fingers together, he seemed to be lost in thought. Abruptly, he became still.