UNDRESSING ELIZABETH
Jacquelyne Alberta
EROTIC ROMANCE
Secret Cravings Publishing
www.secretcravingspublishing.com
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A Secret Cravings Publishing Book
Erotic Romance
UNDRESSING ELIZABETH
Copyright © 2012 by Jacquelyne Alberta
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61885-222-9
First E-book Publication: March 2012
Cover design by Dawne Dominique
Edited by Colleen McSpirit
Proof read by Keisa Burrell
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Secret Cravings Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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Secret Cravings Publishing
www.secretcravingspublishing.com
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Rachel Hayes' Father set out to prove the existence of the Miloni temple and the Jaguar people. Tumi is a descendant of the Miloni race and is sworn to protect their secret with his life. Will he be forced to uphold his vow at the cost of his heart and Rachel's life?
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UNDRESSING ELIZABETH
Jacquelyne Alberta
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
There had been three separate "incidents" now. That's what she liked to call them, incidents. Things that mattered so much they made her face burn red and her heart beat so fast that she almost squirmed with desire. Yet by the time she was driving home she explained them in her head as playful, innocent things. Things that happened with co-workers who found each other's company exciting. Just incidents that was all. Then she'd be fine, she'd function with her husband. They'd eat, maybe walk or talk, and go to bed. Sometimes they'd have sex. Then she'd lie in bed, her safe, dependable husband by her side and think of the incidents and wonder if they really were so innocent.
The first one was the stare. She was wearing the special bra, the one that accentuated her assets, and he looked. Not just looked and not just stared, but looked and kept looking, surmising almost, enjoying the sight of her breasts. Then he gazed up at her face and smiled. And, of course, she smiled back.
The second one was the touch. They were laughing; the others had left or were ignoring them, as usual. The office wasn't busy that day. He had her laughing. He'd said something dirty, almost evil, and she was enjoying it. She laughed and tried to suppress the laugh at the same time, snorting almost. He reached his hand over, with the goofy smile on his face and touched her arm. Stroked it and brought his hand down on hers. She pulled away, still laughing. Stupid, she thought later, but it was just instinct. He'd felt the touch anyways. He got enough. He knew how soft it felt. Hand lotion, top drawer of her desk, never leave home without it, and all of a sudden it was worth it.
The third one happened today and it was the most intense yet. They were in the copier room. Although it was filled with stacks of paper and binders and books, it was still actually quite a spacious room. She had her back to him and was giggling about something he'd been going on about. He smiled and said something. Then he brushed himself behind her, gently pressing his front on her ass. She didn’t resist. She looked back and smiled at him. He had lots of room to get around but still, he pressed against her. Then he took his hand and felt her ass. Rubbed it then gave it a little squeeze.
"I always wanted to do that."
She wasn't going to show him any hesitation this time.
"I'm glad you did."
Driving home, she tried to make sense of it all. She was with someone else, happy even. So was he. They’d talked about their family life. They weren't unsatisfied at home. But this was different, this was something extra. She could tell. This was going to be a shared secret. This was something she was entitled to. This was something that no one ever had to
know about.
She pulled into her driveway, wondering what she would wear the next day. She wondered if something was really going to happen, or was she kidding herself. Should she wear the pants with the tight sweater? He seemed to like that. Or maybe the top with the peek-a-boo hole in it? That drove him crazy, she knew it did.
She’d never done it before, twenty years of marriage and always faithful. She was a good person, a church lady for heaven’s sake. Solidly, she slammed the car door behind her, making sure not to catch her skirt in it. Standing by her car for an instant, she permitted herself a moment or two to imagine what his cock was going to look like. Shaking her head just before reaching her front door she changed her mind again. Incidents, they were just incidents. That was all.
* * * *
It was just an ordinary office. They manufactured and sold boxes. Somewhere along the line, their founder had the revolutionary idea that you could have a successful company that tried to manufacture the best cardboard boxes around. It worked. Their boxes were used all over Canada. They shipped boxes from their office in Vancouver all the way to St. John’s, Newfoundland.
The office was a large open area, divided into sections by several flimsy removable walls that had plastic windows in them. Sales reps worked the phones in one section of the office, accountants pushed the buttons on their calculators in another section and secretaries shuffled papers and typed into computers in yet another section. So, when Elizabeth sat at her desk with the other accountants, she only had to swing her head slightly to one side to watch him through the plastic window that partitioned her section from the rest of the office. He’d be working the phone, talking, leaning back in his chair, trying to sell boxes to a furniture manufacturer in Alberta or an antique store in Saskatchewan. It didn’t matter. He was the best. He could sell boxes to companies that didn’t even have anything to put in them. People just loved buying from him.
She could hear him talking on the phone, even above the sounds of seventeen sets of fingers typing onto keyboards. He’d introduce himself in his business voice first. “It’s Jim, here, Jim Gretzky from the Box Company.” Then he’d let it sit there while they made the reference. His mischievous grin would come out and he’d always say the same thing. “Yep, that’s me, just like the hockey player except I’m way better looking.” She loved that grin. It said so much. It said I know, and you know and nobody else has to know. She loved the way that he’d run his fingers through his hair while he was talking. He always dressed the same, long sleeved shirt in winter, short-sleeved in summer, casual pleated slacks, and a brightly colored tie. She loved his ties, something about those ties.
There he was, moving on to the next part of his pitch, bringing his chair back down and slapping the desk, laughing at whatever smart-ass comment the prospective box-buyer on the other end of the line said. “I never really thought about it like that before. I’m just a simple old box-selling boy out on the west coast here, trying to sell my wares.” He’d laugh and it was a real laugh, as real as she’d heard. When he straightened up in his chair she could see the outline of his strong back through his shirt. She could see the straightness of his shoulders as he focused on his call, with his elbows hunched on his desk. He looked powerful sitting there, trying to make a sale. The Vancouver summer still hadn’t begun, even though it was late June, so he still had his long sleeved shirt on. She watched as he slowly rolled up the arms of his shirt sleeves while holding the phone between his ear and shoulder. She’d seen him do it many times before. She loved the deliberate way that he had with his actions, the way that when he touched something it always looked as though it were done with purpose. He was doing it now. He finished rolling up his sleeves and placed his order book in front of him, firmly opening page after page, trying to find what he was looking for. She knew those actions. She knew what his eyes were doing. Even though his caller was on the phone he’d still be looking in front of him, imagining that he was looking into their eyes. His blue-green eyes would be flickering slightly each time he turned a page or emphasized a word. She smiled and pulled a stack of order forms from the folder in front of her, better keep working instead of watching his every move. After all, she’d seen him do the same things for the past two years.
Oops, incoming email on her computer screen, probably her supervisor. Ignore it for a moment and pretend to be engrossed in work then click on the bubble and see who the sender is.
“JimG”. Of course it is. He’s talking on the phone, trying to make a deal, and emailing me at the same time. Rascal must have had an email waiting to send to me and he just hit send.
“I feel a big sale coming on and need to make a copy of the purchase order. Feel like bringing that perfect ass of yours to the photo-copier room to give me a hand?”
She smiled then stopped, not wanting anyone in the adjoining desks to ask what she was smiling about. No one had ever said she had a perfect ass, not her husband, not either of her high school boyfriends, and certainly not the little boy in elementary school that used to pull her hair. It was funny though, sometimes Jim did remind her of that little boy.
She quickly typed back. “What exactly is it that you need a hand with, Mr. Gretzky? Have you forgotten how the machine works?”
He had the phone resting on his shoulder now and was clicking his mouse. She could see that from her spot. It was hard to not smile, knowing he kept checking his account, waiting for her email to arrive.
He received it. She could tell by the way he straightened his body and moved his head forward to read his screen. Still he spoke to the person on the other end of the phone, talking about the Saskatchewan football team and how in Vancouver our local British Columbia team were going to beat them this year. He started to turn. No, don’t turn. It’s too obvious then. Someone might know, might clue into the fact we’re emailing each other. He stopped. He was just playing with her, toying, knowing that she was watching him.
She sorted through the stacks of papers, entering the numbers from some, crossing out others. She’d done the job for over twenty years now, ever since she was nineteen years old. It was like clockwork. She could do it faster, but why bother. She took her time, enjoying the wait. After a moment or two, she’d had enough and started to click her mouse and check for incoming email, not content to wait for the little bubble to pop up this time.
Finally, it arrived. Sender: JimG. Of course it was, who else?
“Yes, I need your help with the machine. I need you to bend over and, oops, had a dirty little thought about you there. I need you to bend over and help me load the paper in it. Now, are you gonna keep stalling, because if you are I may have to give you another spank, girl with the perfect ass.”
She didn’t wait this time. Immediately she started typing back. “That wasn’t a spank that you gave me. It was a grope. Get your story straight, mister. Are you going to spank me, or grope me? And share your dirty little thought with me, don’t keep the fantasy all to yourself.”
She sat up just a little straighter in her chair, firming the muscles in her behind, straightening her back. She thought for a moment, and decided that yes, her ass was still fairly impressive. Her hips were probably a little wider than they were when she was in her twenties and she was rounder in areas where she used to be straight, but for a thirty-nine year old woman she could still turn some heads. And, of course there was also her other assets. She glanced down at the peek-a-boo hole in her blouse; the cleavage of her 42DD’s fighting to push through the little hole. Standing up for a moment she stretched, knowing that he’d have to look over. A couple of her co-workers glanced up as she stretched her arms behind herself and pushed her chest out. It was good to stand up once in a while and stretch your muscles, especially when it was sure to get a reaction from a certain star salesman. Sitting back down, she smoothed her skirt. It had a faint plaid pattern in it. She’d almost felt like a school-girl when she put it on this morning. It wasn’t a short skirt; it hung just above her knees, but she knew if she
walked fast enough the slit would swing and show just a flash of her thighs.
The little email bubble on her screen popped up twice in rapid succession. She let out a short laugh and immediately covered it up with a cough, covering her mouth to hide her smile. A couple of others turned to look at her, but then looked away again, concentrating on their own work. He couldn’t wait. As soon as she stood up he must have started typing. He’s excited, she could tell. He’d finished his phone call. There was no more talking from his area. Even from across the office floor she felt as though she could sense the heat coming from him. From his face, his chest, his body.
“You do that again and I’m going to spank you, grope you, whatever the hell you want to call it right in front of everybody. Woman, do you know what you’ve got there? Do you seriously know what those things are doing to me? I’m not going to tell you what my dirty thought was, I’m going to show you, believe me, I’m going to show you.”
Then again, the second one, all capital letters this time. “IT’S EMPTY. NOBODY’S IN THERE. YOU GO FIRST AND I’LL BE RIGHT THERE.”
Then, before she could decide whether or not to go, another one quickly popped up, JimG, again. “NOW, ELIZABETH. GET IN THERE NOW.”
This was the furthest they’d taken it. Everything else had just led up to this. Yes, she’d go. Of course she’d go, but she’d wait just a few seconds first. She stacked some invoices in front of her and highlighted a random set of figures on a scrap piece of paper. Then, deliberately, she stood up and walked quickly towards the copier room. A couple of the older male accountants looked up as she passed their desks. She could tell they were gazing at the slit of her skirt as it swung rhythmically and flashed a peek at the white skin of her thighs. He’d be watching too. She knew he would.
Undressing Elizabeth Page 1