The Temp

"That's my wife," he said stupidly. "I'll take it," he fumbled with the words and felt warm and guilty. Was this going to be the first time in thirty something years of marriage that he'd talk to Charlene and be hard for someone else?

"How's it going?" Charlene asked in her singsong voice, the same question, every day at the exact same time. They were nothing if not predictable.

Roger looked out the window and watched the smokers as they sat on the picnic table and puffed. "Good. How's your day?"

"Hot," Charlene told him. "Did you know it's 100 with the heat index?"

"No," he hadn't noticed anything today but the temp.

"So how's the new girl?" Charlene asked casually but he could tell that she was fishing for information, "She sounds young."

Roger turned from the window and stared at Gloria. She had taken a break from filing and now she sat in Barb's chair. One slender calf jiggled as she tapped her foot, the other seemed to be folded underneath her splendid bottom. He bet that her legs were sparkly and satiny smooth and that she was soft from her ankle all the way up to her magnificent cock. "She's okay," he mumbled to his wife, "I mean, she's no Barb." He felt slightly sick with lust and frustration.

"Well I bet all the girls there will hate her." Charlene had no idea how right she was, "I mean, if she's young and cute, anyway."

Who said anything about cute?

She was breathtaking and Roger couldn't take his eyes off of her and the next woman that the temp agency sent better be a toad so that he could concentrate. "It'll be fine," he assured his wife. "What's for dinner?" he changed the subject and took a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Charlene made a noise, her typical noise that meant she wasn't really in the mood to cook but she probably would because getting take out made her feel guilty. Roger never understood why she didn't give herself more of a break. He knew her so well after all these years. He knew her sounds, he knew her pauses, he had never met anyone was such an open book and Roger had thought that was how he liked it. Easy. Simple. "Probably tacos, that won't heat up the house," she said and if he were looking at her, he knew that she would shrug as she told him.

As it was, he looked at Gloria and thought of how velvety her skin as he ran his fingertips down her back. He wanted to sweep her blonde curls up in both hands and bare her neck so that he could rub the tip of his nose along the little indentation there. He wanted to feel her shiver in his arms as his mouth set every nerve on edge. "Tacos sound good. I should go," he told her the same thing every day, regardless of what dinner was to be. Roger knew that he was lucky to have a wife that cooked for him every night and more so, a wife who seemed to genuinely like taking care of him. He was a shit for staring at this girl, just because she was the new model. "See you later, honey," he added the "honey" so that Charlene wouldn't spend the rest of the afternoon obsessing over whether or not the new girl was cute. It was an affirmation meant to soothe the way. Yes, she's adorable but I wouldn't trade you in for all of the curly-haired, bouncing bottom, ruffles and lace and fruity perfume girls in the world.

He'd just think about Gloria while stroking his cock, probably for months.

After he hung up, Roger chewed the rest of his sandwich slowly as he contemplated this situation. He'd call the temp agency and ask for a replacement but he had to be careful. Oh so very careful, he had to tiptoe across that line because he knew that things like dicks and frilly dresses were minefields for men like him.

Why would he ask for a replacement?

He ate his Lays potato chips next and answered that question with the truth, the dreadful, not safe for work, could never be spoken truth. She was too beautiful and he was too hard to make the phone calls that Barb had scheduled for him last week. She was too beautiful and she smelled too good and he couldn't take his eyes off the lump. Where his initial reaction had been aggrievement, now it was mostly obsession. He couldn't work because of the little protrusion, the small dick that bounced between her thighs. Worse, Roger had made up his mind that he wanted to do was see it.

Touch it.

Taste it.

None of that could be said out loud though. She had been almost late, but not quite. She was dressed almost inappropriately, but only when you compared it to everyone else.

The ladies had fought for jeans five days a week and Roger had capitulated when they came back to work. He had known it was a slippery slope and now they sneaked in all kinds of things. He had seen stretch pants and baggy, plaid shorts and worst of all, Crocs.

Gloria looked like a princess compared to the rest of them.

By the time he finished eating, Roger realized that he was screwed. He had no legitimate complaints about Gloria and anything that he said about her dress or her looks or god forbid, her penis, would be construed as sexual harassment. The ladies at the agency would probably berate him and never send him another temp. He was a man in a #metoo world and although they kept telling him that he was at the top of the food chain, he suspected that it was a precarious place to be. Especially with a dickgirl ten feet away.

As he placed the call to one of his suppliers, Roger remembered that this wasn't the first time that he had some thoughts that simmered about a girl with something a little different.

Was it just a curiosity or was it more of a fetish? He had a vague longing whenever he thought about a girl with a dick. The longing was vague but what he wanted was oddly specific. Not a masculine looking woman, that did nothing for him. Not one of those men, dressed in drag, like the ones that hustled tricks in one of the more questionable neighborhoods far away from here. Not a linebacker in a skirt. Nothing like that. It was rare but occasionally, he'd see her and he'd give in completely. What did that mean? Roger wasn't comfortable with this new assessment.

"Roger, how's it going? You been busy over there?" The man's name was Jim and for the life of him, Roger couldn't remember his last name in spite of the fact that they talked at least twice a month. Another person that he had an oddly intimate relationship with that was only by voice or email.

"Good, I guess, I mean we're really cranking up in this economic revival," Roger gave him the standard line as he watched Gloria shift in her chair. She stretched one slender arm overhead and her breasts jiggled as she moved. Jim continued the conversation about whatever, vaccines and who was out and who was working from home and how badly the Chinese had fucked up the supply chain. Roger stopped listening as he studied the front of Gloria's dress for her nipples. He imagined them plucked and hard. In his mind's eye, they were sweet, little strawberry colored bits of warm flesh. He would nibble and tease them between his teeth as his hand moved down into her panties. Her skin would be warm velvet in the panties. All the while, his hand would seek out the other warm, fleshy bit that had tortured him all day.

He was consumed with her dick, he wanted it, god, he needed it.

Roger wasn't sure how they ended the phone call but it seemed fine. If Jim noticed that he wasn't his usual, chipper self, at least he had the decency to keep it to himself. Check one thing off of Barb's list of things to do. He settled in to the worn place on his seat and gave himself an attaboy as he pressed the numbers to make the next phone call. See, he could be hard and still be productive.

Time might have stood still or he might have just done everything on autopilot. Maybe nothing else but the girl with the dimple was real for the next hour or two. He spoke, Roger felt his mouth move, and he could hear his voice in the background. He responded to speech but in his mind's eye, he was somewhere else far away. He was alone somewhere with Gloria, just the two of them. She had very sweetly opened the tiny pearl buttons on that dress and he took it off. He could feel the material in his hands as he pulled it up, over her head. Then it was just the sound of her glorious curls cascading down her bare shoulders. That was all he could hear.

Oh, that, and her giggle.

The knock on the door brought him crashing back down to reality. "Mr. L?" It had to be one of the old timers. The kids just called him Roger as if they were also bosses. He swung around in the chair and saw that it was Patty. She was friends outside of work with Barb and had promised to give the full report about the surgery. "Can I come in?"

"Sure, Patty, what's up?" he asked and leaned back in his chair a little more. His dick was finally on a break. He couldn't remember a day that he'd been so alert, so on edge.

"Barb's son called. She's in recovery and they said the surgery went well," Patty, the thick waisted woman with the gray, butch haircut told him. Patty had manly hands and walked like a truck driver but everyone said that she'd been happily married for longer than he and Charlene had been together. Just went to show you, he thought.

"Good to know, thanks for keeping me posted," he said with half a grin. He really hoped that Patty was not about to spill her guts and explain every little inch of what everything was that they took out. He could do without the side effects and the stitches but Patty definitely had something on her mind.

She gestured over her shoulder with a thumb, "Is she taking Barb's place?"

That voice, it was cold and bitter, it was a bite on the ass. Patty would be the first to complain about Gloria in some protective reaction to make sure that Roger didn't trade Barb in for a much newer model. "She's just sitting in until Barb comes back," he reassured Patty in a calm voice.

"What on earth is she wearing?" Patty asked with a spiteful snort that meant, "get a load of this ridiculous girl," and she wanted Roger to be on her side. They all would.

Which was why cutting Gloria loose was the kindest thing he could do.

Otherwise he'd be serving her up to a pack of hyenas. He didn't really know anything about the beautiful girl with a dick, but he knew that she deserved better than that. "It's a dress, Patty. It's her first day. Cut her some slack," he said sternly. It was a warning but Roger knew that he better not sound like he was too much on Gloria's side or the rumor mill would start immediately. "She probably had no idea what we wear around here," he added. Roger let the hint be there, yes, he found the ridiculous dress to be slightly humorous, but hey, she tried.

Patty said her goodbyes and took a long look at Gloria before she stomped back down to the production floor.

Roger had waited long enough. He glanced at his watch. It was a quarter to four and the day was drawing to a close. If she needed to make alternate plans for tomorrow. he owed Gloria that much anyway. He checked Barb's notes for the number and quickly dialed it. "QPS Employment, how may I direct your call?" chirped a friendly girl's voice.

Christ, everyone was young. Everywhere, everyone was younger than him and Roger suddenly felt like he was really the old man that everyone seemed to assume that he was. He was an old man, shriveled up, dried up, spiteful and crotchety and now he was going to get Gloria canned for simply being sexy. That said way more about him than it did about her. "Can I speak with Christina?" he asked anyway, in spite of the guilt trip. He'd rip it off in one fast movement, like a Band-Aid.

There was a few seconds of hold music and then a second young, female voice said, "This is Christina."

He quickly introduced himself, "Hi, this is Roger Lincoln."

His eyes were riveted on Gloria. Once again, she was filing and the sun had shifted and the lights and shadows caressed her body. She had become a work of art, illuminated like this. She was the model for the painter, the muse. She was the beautiful, mysterious, perfectly pornographic, little fairy of a girl. She was sure to leave an indelible imprint on his mind, just like an immortal work of art.

God, he wanted her.

"Mr. Lincoln, how are you?" Christina asked. "And how is Gloria? Is she working out for you?"

He felt a little dampness on his bottom lip and Roger felt his cheeks grow hot as he realized that he was drooling. He wanted her. He wanted to do things with Gloria that he'd never done but always secretly, in his darkest, dirtiest fantasies, wanted to do. He'd never wanted to suck off a man; that was almost repulsive, at the very least distasteful. He'd never felt an inkling to do anything with another man, but this girl, she was an anomaly. This beautiful dickgirl and her luscious cock that had beckoned and shivered and shimmied across his imagination all day.

He wanted to suck her. In fact he could almost taste her in his mouth right now and once again, he was dry and parched and could barely speak.

"Gloria, oh yes, Gloria's great." He said it all in one breath and he sounded far away, which he was, because he was somewhere else. He was on his knees and his hands moved up and down on her supple thighs under the flounce of the dress.

"Good to hear," Christina said, "so is there something else I can help you with?"

Here was his chance, he could get away with it. He'd be off scot free and all he had to do was just say that he needed someone who was a faster typist, a more efficient filer of papers; a quick, effective, sexless worker bee. They'd forgive him, he was just an old, clueless man after all.

He wanted to suck her. The thought came like a heartbeat.

He wanted her salty, sweet cream down in his throat and he wanted his face to smell of her dick and balls. He wanted to slowly, tenderly finger her ripe, puckered, pink asshole. He wanted to feel her vibrate with feeling under him as he pleasured the girl with one dimple. He wanted to see her smile after she came in his mouth and dribbled a little on his bottom lip and chin. He wanted to be a mess with her orgasm and savor it in his mouth. He wanted his hair to be wild from rubbing his face in her plush crotch. He wanted to feel her in his throat and remember it always so that every time he stroked his dick, it was to the tempo of her cock in his mouth.

"Oh, well, I guess I just wanted to know if you have temporary people for factory work too?" he lied quickly. There had to be something, there had to be a reason for this stupid phone call.

All the while, he could feel the tremor inside as he realized that if he had the chance, if for some crazy twist of the fates, or karma, or whatever, if the girl allowed it, he was going to suck her dick. That seemed life altering. "You know, with the economy bouncing back and we still have a few people out, we might need to pick up a few more temps," Roger sounded confident and calm. It was all a lie because at the moment, nothing about him was.

"Yeah, of course, we would love to help you with that." Christina droned on after that about all of the reasons why they should work together and Roger stared at the blue couch in his office. It was all the way to the right hand side and up against the wall. Barb joked about it being the visitor's couch but Roger never had any visitors. It was the perfect place. Well, at least given what the scenario was, it was the perfect place and he could feel her wedge sandals on his shoulders as he tipped Gloria back on the upholstery.

"Sure, sure," Roger agreed when the woman took a breath. He asked her to email him some information and he'd get back to her at a later date.

It was twenty after four when the employees started to leave. They trickled out in groups of two and threes and Roger listened to their whoops and hollers in the parking lot. It was sweltering out there, as evidenced by the forearms that went up to wipe sweat off foreheads. They quickly put down their windows as they got inside their cars and waited for the AC to kick in before peeling rubber out of the parking lot.

It was 4:45 when someone turned off the lights in the employee kitchen. Moments later, Roger realized that there were only two cars left in the parking lot and he swallowed hard.

Was he really going to do this?

If he had the chance, Roger assumed nothing but if he did. He'd never really cheated on Charlene, never not once cheated as in with his dick inside another woman. But this wouldn't have anything to do with his dick either. It was all about Gloria's perfect, tasty morsel of a cock.

He had goosebumps in spite of how warm it was.

Almost as if she could read his mind, Gloria tapped on his door. It was that same dainty, little girl knock that she'd done this morning and it made him shudder. "Mr. Lincoln?" she asked slowly. That voice had all the time in the world to just tug at his heartstrings, and his zipper. "I filed everything that was in that stack."

"Come in," he gestured to her. "Sit down," he got up and strolled over to the couch. He took a seat casually, with his hands behind his head, as if nothing about her had crossed his mind all day. Gloria didn't know that he never had visitors, she would be his very first one. "How'd it go today?"

He watched Gloria sit. Her dress flounced out around her on the navy blue couch. Her scent from this morning was warmer and richer, as if the warmth from her body had just made it more full-flavored. It was fruit and flowers, like bubblegum and gardenias and he wanted to know if she dabbed it on the crooks of her elbows and behind her knees. "It was fine," she said with some hesitation. "I guess people here aren't too friendly?"

Poor Gloria, she had no idea.

Roger watched his hand reach out to her knee, just to rest there. The bottom half of it was bare, the edge of her dress stopped right there and his fingers insisted on knowing whether or not she was really as soft as she looked. He let his hand stay there and let the warmth sink in. God, she was every bit as warm and soft as she seemed that she was. Gloria didn't shrink away from his hand or freeze up under the touch. Roger's heart galloped as he let it sink in; he was touching the dickgirl.

She stayed, she melted and Roger wondered if he didn't hear that almost imperceptible shift of her thighs as they moved just a tiny bit further apart. "It's not that they're not friendly. It's just you're new," she was new and young, god, so young.

Was she even old enough to go to a bar and get a drink?

Even if she wasn't, he bet that no one ever carded her because the thought of someone so pretty and slightly tipsy was too good not to take advantage. "You're new and you're pretty," there, he said it, pretty. One of the not safe for work words, the boldest word that he could drum up. And it was such a pathetic word, considering how magnificent she was.

"Pretty?" Gloria asked and cocked her head. Her honey colored curls dipped down, past that shoulder. They dangled precariously close to where straps and ribbons and underwear things must touch her delicate body. "And they must be used to having you all to themselves?" Gloria giggled and leaned in closer. Her thick, black lashes almost touched her cheekbones. She looked at him through her lashes, a smoldering look. Her eyes were sea green, like a lagoon. Like some tropical body of water, where mermaids beckoned and gave a siren's song.

Was she flirting with him?

It had been so long, so long and he'd been so pitifully bad at this game back when he still played. "Okay, not pretty," he admitted and corrected himself. "Absolutely beautiful," god he sounded like a boy with a crush and Roger guessed at this point that just about summed things up. He was no smoother at this than he had been at her age. "Stunning," he continued shakily. Every hair on his arms stood at attention as he let the words that he'd kept in the center of his chest break free. "And you didn't make it easy with this dress," he added with a grin. His hand moved from the top of her knee to the back and Gloria must be sensitive right there. She must like to be touched there, on the small indentation on the back of her knee. Even though it had been a long time since Roger had heard a woman's deep sigh of contentment, he knew that was the beginning of longing.