Very Casual Fridays

She knew it wasn't right. It certainly wasn't fair. But Julia told herself that it was totally harmless. Besides, it had already become a Friday afternoon tradition. Unless Michael actually plucked up the courage to object, she felt that teasing him was as good a way as any to end the workweek. Poor, pathetic Michael, with his impeccably neat desk and his boring ties and his Tupperware containers that took up all the room in the office fridge. She wondered for a moment about his romantic life, but screwed up her face and shook her head. "Who gives a shit about his romantic life?" she thought, with a wicked giggle.

Julia was an analyst in the office of Miriam Howell. Her boss was an energetic fifty-something with a can-do attitude and a stunning memory for names who had been in the financial advice business for ten years. It was only recently that things really started to take off for her. As business began to improve she brought in Julia, who had a much better handle on the numbers. That had worked well for about eighteen months before Miriam decided she needed a computer guy as well. Enter Michael, an introverted, nerdy type with a stick so far up his ass, Julia thought she could see it at the back of his throat on the rare occasions he spoke.

Miriam liked having people work for her. It made her feel important. And like most people who feel important, she decided to indulge herself a little to celebrate her success. After working late each evening, Monday through Thursday, Miriam had adopted the habit of leaving soon after 1pm on Friday afternoons. She trusted Julia and Michael to finish up the week's work, while she enjoyed the sorts of things that reasonably successful financial advisors often enjoyed: golf, pedicures, relaxing afternoons on a pontoon boat, or maybe an afternoon nap before hopping on a plane for Vegas.

The second time Miriam had deserted the office on a Friday, Julia had been struggling to the end of a brutal week. Some inconsequential tax code change had spooked many of the clients, all of whom had decided their portfolios needed immediate review. That had landed an obscene pile of work on Julia's desk. As she felt herself slowly drowning in that chaos, she'd also discovered that her boyfriend had been engaged in a sordid texting relationship with some pretty young thing he'd met at a conference. Julia had been furious, but she was a habitual conflict-avoider, and it had taken an immense amount of her emotional energy simply to confront him. On Thursday evening, after arriving home from work, she had called him up, calmly explained that he was an asshole, and that his services were no longer required. By mid-afternoon on Friday, she was still feeling some of the effects of the vodka that had kept her company throughout night. As luck would have it, though, the boss was gone, and no clients were scheduled to come in that afternoon, so Julia decided to take some liberties: she kicked off her heels, let her hair down, leaned forward and buried her head on the desk behind her folded arms. She sobbed a little, let out a scream that would have been blood-curdling, if she hadn't drowned it in the back of her throat, and fleshed out a violent fantasy in her mind that culminated with the dismemberment of her former lover. When she finally sat up again, Michael was staring at her, aghast.

Julia shot an innocent look back in his direction. "Is everything alright Michael?" she enquired in a pleasant tone. Michael stammered and tried desperately to compose himself, while Julia calmly took a fresh bottle of vodka from her desk draw, poured a shot into her coffee mug and knocked it back efficiently. Then she put her stockinged feet up on the desk. Michael only looked more agitated, and promptly turned his focus back to his computer screen in a dramatic effort to ignore Julia altogether.

She understood that she was not behaving in a professional manner. But after the stress of the past week, Julia felt entitled to let off a little steam. She twisted the cap back onto the bottle but left the vodka near at hand, and then returned to her portfolio reviews. It was mindless, repetitive work, but it had to be finished that evening. She redoubled her efforts.

At one point, Julia spun around in her chair. As she reached for a document, she got the impression that Michael was watching her. It was something she noticed out of the corner of her eye, and she wasn't really sure about it. But when it happened a second and a third time later in the afternoon, her curiosity was aroused.

An experiment was clearly in order.

Julia rose from her desk and walked rather demurely into Miriam's office. She could feel Michael's eyes on her as she moved past him. She took a moment at Miriam's desk, retrieving a folder and leafing through it, as though searching for some vital piece of information. She knew Michael could see her from his seat, so she idly twirled her hair around her fingers, then casually undid an extra button on her blouse. She swung her hips the tiniest bit as she walked back to her desk. Still perusing the folder, she pretended not to notice Michael watching her every move.

Julia was convinced that Michael was ogling her, and decided it was time to make things more interesting. She turned to face him, and Michael quickly dragged his eyes back to his own computer screen. She said:

"Look, I've had just an awful week. So, I'm going to pour myself another drink. Would you like one?"

Michael blushed and shook his head, murmuring something about the work he had to do. Julia shrugged and said she was happy to drink alone. She poured some vodka into her coffee cup, leaned back in her chair and again placed her feet on the desk. She made sure to stretch her legs provocatively, while gently easing up the hem of her skirt so that Michael could admire more of her legs. Michael was powerless to resist. He stared shamelessly. Again, Julia pretended not to notice.

Since that first time, Julia had made it a habit to tease Michael every Friday afternoon. She never did anything too outrageous. She would wait until Miriam had left, would let her hair down and always gave Michael plenty of opportunities to stare at her legs. All the time, she would pretend to be completely oblivious to his attention. Occasionally, she would engage him in conversation, and "absentmindedly" let slip some rather racy details about her entanglements with her ex-lover. Like how she had visited him at his office one lunchtime, and given him a long, slow blow job right there at his desk. And how she had hidden beneath the desk, with his cock in her mouth, when somebody had knocked on the door. Sweat had broken out above Michael's top lip when he heard that story, and he hadn't known where he should be looking.

Weeks went by, and Julia's Friday afternoon teasing became almost habitual. Julia found herself looking forward to it, sometimes as early as Tuesday. She was disappointed, then, when she realized that her fun would be interrupted one Friday afternoon. Michael had an appointment to see one of Miriam's clients at two o'clock. Julia was hoping it wouldn't take long.

As usual, Miriam departed shortly after lunch, and Michael and Julia continued to work away, both with an eye on the clock.

Just before 2:00 pm, Amy Pollard sashayed through the door. She had a purse hanging from her shoulder, and a couple of slim binders tucked under her arm. Amy had been a client of Miriam's almost since the beginning, and the two shared many qualities. Amy was a little younger than Miriam, and a little older than Julia. Probably around 40. She was successful, supremely confident and in tremendous shape. Julia couldn't help but admire how firm and full her breasts appeared in her tight, sleeveless dress, and was totally jealous that Michael was the one dealing with her that afternoon.

"Amy, it's lovely to see you again," Julia gushed. "Miriam insisted that you'd be most comfortable in her office. So settle down in there while I find Michael for you. I think he's trying to dig something out of some old files. Can I get you anything while you're waiting? Tea? Coffee? Water?"

"After the week, I've had, a stiff drink would be great," Amy quipped. "But for now, a little water will be fine. Thank you."

Julia showed Amy to Miriam's office. Moments later she returned with her colleague and a bottle of water.

Amy had agreed to be a guinea pig, testing out some new portfolio management software that Michael had been developing. There was an endless list of instructions and reassurances that he had to offer, absolutely none of which interested Julia. She busied herself with an array of minor tasks she had to deal with, indulging herself every once in a while with a covetous look in Amy's direction.

If asked, Julia would always identify herself as straight. But twice before she had found herself sexually involved with another woman. The first was during her college days: the kind of frivolous, late-night bacchanalia that one explains away as experimentation. It was nice enough, but it went nowhere. Julia emerged a little more worldly for the experience. The second, however, was a completely different kettle of fish.

A couple of years out of college, lost and in need of direction, she had spent a month at a retreat in the middle of the New Mexico desert. It was peaceful, almost unbearably hot, extremely quiet and the food was awful. At the heart of the campus was a small building that served as a reading room. Enormous windows on each wall opened wide, welcoming the sun and any breeze that stirred, and in every corner, every gap between furniture, on every available surface, gorgeous plants erupted from earthenware pots in a striking array of vibrant greens. Despite the heat, Julia spent every possible moment in that oasis. The simple beauty of the light and the indoor garden, and the opportunity to read peacefully for hours on end, helped to quieten the anxieties that were threatening to overwhelm her.

Her greatest joy, however, was experienced in the evenings. As the sun went down, the breeze invariably picked up and cooled off the room. At that time, a woman would glide silently through the place tending to the plants. She showered each individual plant with water and with love, and the plants responded to her care with exuberant growth and ecstatic color. Mesmerized by that woman's wordless ministrations, Julia watched her each evening and marveled at the simplicity, the purity and the perfection of her care.

On the very last night of Julia's stay, she once again watched the woman at her work. Obviously the plants couldn't speak to the woman, but somehow she always knew what they needed - the precise amount of water, which leaves had to be plucked, which branches pruned, which pots should be moved for optimal sunlight. Julia never spoke to her either. But with the same, unerring instincts, she seemed to know precisely what Julia needed. She poured Julia a glass of cool, refreshing water. She held her hand. She embraced her with unquestioning acceptance. She stroked her hair. She cradled Julia to her bosom. Selflessly, she offered Julia her breasts, and allowed Julia to suck at them. With effortless grace, her hands roamed across Julia's body. There was no exploration. She touched Julia as if she had known every inch of her body for her whole life. With each touch, each caress, Julia felt known, felt understood, felt accepted. And with each of the tender kisses that followed, Julia felt her whole body, her whole being, loved. Julia spent the night in the arms of that silent woman, experiencing a peacefulness she had never known before. Julia was a fixed point, and the woman, the couch, the room, the whole universe twisted and wrapped itself around her, through her hair, in her nose and out her mouth, between her legs. Even the near-constant, orgasmic tremblings that coursed through her body felt like the universe exploding in celebratory fireworks around her peaceful self.

So many years later, Julia never thought about the half-stoned fumblings with her biochem lab partner in her college dorm room. In contrast, she often thought of that sublime night in the New Mexico desert. However, she viewed that as a kind of sacramental experience - a moment in which God had touched her life - hardly an indication of any latent lesbian tendencies. Consequently, the raw, sexual attraction she felt for Amy came as quite a surprise. Amy's proximity was leaving Julia restless, and she decided to tease Michael particularly savagely once Amy had left..

Amy's meeting with Michael didn't take long. Julia waved goodbye and ushered her out the door soon after 2:30. She released a huge sigh, locked the front entrance to the office and leaned back against the door. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, hoping to catch the last, faint hints of Amy's perfume. For a moment, she imagined Amy standing in front of her, pressing her back against the door, reaching for her body. But Michael's sudden cough broke the spell and Julia was wrenched from her reverie.

The scowl that sprang to Julia's face faded soon enough, and she soothed herself by plotting the afternoon's merciless teasing. She strode purposefully across the room, kicked her shoes beneath her desk and fished a bottle of vodka from her draw. In the kitchenette she found some ice and a coffee mug and, after fixing herself a generous drink, she made her way to the bathroom to rearrange her hair, her neckline and her attitude.

When Julia re-emerged, her blouse was untucked and daringly buttoned only half way up. Her hair was down and tousled in a dangerously fetching fashion, and she'd rolled her waistband over once or twice so that her skirt appeared a couple of inches shorter than before. In one hand she swung the bottle of vodka, and in the other hand she gripped her drink. Taking a sip, she let her eyes wander around the room, searching for Michael. Michael's voice found her first.

"Oh, Julia. Umm...Amy Pollard...ah...left a binder behind and...umm...ducked back in to pick it up."

Julia spun around and gaped in horror to see Michael and Amy standing at the door to Miriam's office. She was speechless. Michael looked to be on the verge of a heart attack. Meanwhile, Amy stood imperiously, studying Julia's wardrobe adjustments. Julia felt sick to her stomach. Fortunately, Amy could only maintain her haughty posture for a few moments. Her face soon broke into a wide, warm smile, and she laughed.

"Julia," she announced, "I can forgive you for not telling me that today is a casual Friday. But I'm not sure I can forgive you for holding out on me about that vodka. I told you I needed a stiff drink. You'd better find a mug for me now...unless you want me to tell Miriam all about your mid-afternoon makeover..."

A few moments later, the two women were seated at Julia's desk sucking down shots of vodka. Julia squirmed a little, displaying some level of anxiety. But Amy tried to put her at ease, projecting a relaxed and friendly energy. They both savored the gentle burn as the vodka slid down their throats.

Amy glanced approvingly at the bottle.

"I'm glad to see you drink the good stuff."

"Well," Julia replied coquettishly, "I never know who might drop by. I'd be devastated if I only had swill to offer a VIP guest like you."

"VIP?" Amy smirked a little, and threw Julie a sidelong glance. "Are you hoping to get me to come again?"

"Oh, you're always welcome," Julia exclaimed with a nervous giggle. "We do this every Friday afternoon. Isn't that right, Michael?"

As soon as the words left her lips, Julia regretted it. If this got back to Miriam, it could mean a world of trouble. Amy, however, seemed to sense Julia's concern.

"Every Friday?" She appeared to be making a mental note. "I'll remember that. And don't worry, your secret is safe with me." Here she patted Julia's hand reassuringly. "I don't think there's any reason for Miriam to know about any of this. Besides, I happen to know that she thinks the world of you. And I doubt she'd begrudge you the chance to let your hair down, as long as you get all your work done."

At this, Julia glanced uncomfortably at a small pile of files lying nearby on her desk.

Amy got the message. She smiled again and rose from her seat.

"As much as I'd like to stay, I'd probably better leave now, before I'm unable to drive home. I'll see you soon, Julia. And you too, Michael."

While Amy made her way out the door, Julia could almost hear Michael's blood boiling, and feel his ferocious glare burning a hole through the back of her skull. She chose to ignore it all, and poured herself another drink.

As usual, Miriam left the office early in the afternoon the following Friday. And, as usual, Julia kicked off her shoes, let her hair down and did her best to give Michael a good look at her legs. The main entrance to the office suite was locked since no clients were expected, so it came as a surprise to both of them when there was a loud knock on the glass door. Julia sat bolt upright and dived to hide her bottle of vodka back in the draw. Michael marched to the door to see who might have called on them.

"Surprise!" cried Amy as she glided inside. "And thanks, Michael." She shot a charming smile in his direction as her hand to trailed gently over his forearm. "Julia told me I was always welcome, so I decided to drop by for a drink with my favorite financial team."

She walked across the room like she owned the place. Arriving at Julia's desk, she bent and offered the younger woman a swift, friendly peck on the cheek before throwing open the desk draw to find the vodka bottle.

"I did a little shopping before I came," she said, holding up a nondescript brown paper shopping bag. "I hope you don't mind."

She reached into the bag and pulled out three glasses.

"I don't mean any offense, but I really prefer not to drink liquor out of a coffee mug."

Next, she fumbled around in the bag before pulling out a pair of limes and a small, sharp knife. Last to appear was a bottle of tonic.

"I'm hoping you might have some ice hidden away in that fridge of yours, too." Amy motioned in the direction of the kitchenette.

Dutifully, Julia fetched some ice, and, a minute later, Amy was fixing the drinks.

"You will join us, won't you Michael?" Amy called pleasantly across the room.

But the question obviously made Michael uncomfortable. He stammered a little, and fidgeted with some items on his desk before he replied, "Ah, no thanks Amy. I really should get some work finished."

Then he put his head down, and produced a flurry of loud keystrokes on his keyboard.

"How about you?" Amy's penetrating gaze fixed on Julia's eyes. "Did you get your work finished this afternoon?"

In fact, Julia had finished everything important, and had started on a few inconsequential items for next week simply so she could stick around to tease Michael for the afternoon. She nodded her head and encouraged Amy to survey her empty desk. Amy rewarded her by giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Good girl," she purred, and then she winked, before both women began giggling uncontrollably.

Julia was pleased they weren't doing shots that afternoon. She could sip her drink and spend a little time with Amy, and maybe come to a better understanding of her unexpected fascination with the older woman. Certainly, Amy was attractive: a little shorter that Julia, with broader hips and shoulders. Her waist was tiny. Julia had to admit, there was a certain power, a certain strength she associated with Amy's broad shoulders, and the sleeveless dresses she favored showed off equally powerful, and beautifully toned, arms. Julia had never seen her wear a revealing neckline, but the snug fit of her clothes hinted at the firm, gravity-defying breasts of a woman who worked hard to tone and shape her upper body. As they drank and chatted, Julia fantasized about a sun-drenched poolside where Amy might be sipping her drink in a bikini, showing off her taut and muscular figure.