by Juniper Bell
On my first day as receptionist at Cowell & Dirk, I woke up super-early, remembering in a panic the uniform I was supposed to wear to work. I’d packed the white box inside one of my moving boxes. In a frenzy, I ripped through each and every one until I found it. In all the busyness of the move, I’d never bothered to check it out. I’d figured it was some boring suit jacket or something. Maybe a white blouse with a bow at the neck. Something ugly and lame.
Wrong. So wrong. I opened the box and dug through layers of white tissue until I found the assigned outfit for my first day on the job. Lingerie. Not just any lingerie, but expensive, high-class, call-girl-type lingerie. It was a teddy made of black lace. I’d never seen anything so artfully beautiful in my life. The way it felt in my hands as I lifted it out of the box, it was like stepping into a fancy restaurant or onto a Caribbean cruise ship. Maybe it sounds crazy, but that was the feeling I got. Lingerie like that makes you feel precious and cared-for.
At first I simply looked at it, feeling my face get all hot. The sexy god Simon Dirk had handed me that box, knowing what was inside, knowing I would be lifting it from the box and, if I chose, putting it on my body. Maybe he’d imagined me wearing it. Maybe he’d chosen it specifically for me. These thoughts made me dizzy.
I took off the ribbed tank top and baggy boxer shorts I’d worn to bed and tried on the teddy. The freakin’ thing fit perfectly. And it looked unbelievable on me. At least as far as I could tell in the cracked medicine cabinet mirror in my new bathroom. I had to climb onto the toilet and lean to the left to be able to see. But damn, even balanced on one leg and hunched over, I looked good.
For someone with dark hair and eyes, I have unusually pale skin. The black lace set off the whiteness of my skin. In the summer, it wouldn’t have looked nearly as good, but this was April. A black leather ribbon ran under my breasts and crisscrossed between them, forming the shoulder straps. The openwork lace left lots of space for skin to show through. The biggest gaps in the fabric were in the area covering my nipples. Covering being an exaggeration. My nipples, big and dark, showed through like two bull’s-eyes. Every time I moved, the lace slid against them and gave me a little teasing rub. Bigger and darker they grew, even in the few moments I balanced there on the toilet seat. The rest of the teddy, the part below the breasts, was loose and silky. The crotch had a cotton lining, perhaps to soak up the moisture inspired by the movement of lace-on-nipple.
Oh, boy. Looking at my beautiful self in the mirror—and believe me, I don’t usually think of myself that way—I knew I had a choice. Well, a couple of choices. I could send the teddy back to Cowell & Dirk. I could storm into the office, slam the box on the receptionist’s desk, and stomp out, maybe even threatening legal action. I could keep the teddy and never let them see my face again. I could sell the thing on eBay and wear my normal underwear to work. Perhaps the pair with Up Yours written on the front in cursive.
Or, I could accept the challenge. See Simon Dirk’s bet and maybe even raise him. In my luxurious new teddy, I strolled back into the bedroom/living room/kitchenette and rifled through my clothes for the appropriate outfit to wear over it. And there it was. Tight, below-the-knee hobble skirt that screamed kinky schoolmarm. Knee-high boots with a slight heel. Topped off with a blouse that missed being see-through by only a few well-placed threads. It buttoned up the front, with a strip of thicker fabric down the middle of my chest. But the rest of the blouse, essentially transparent. Over the teddy, it was obscene. My nipples shone through like dark moons on a misty night. At the last minute, I added a jacket, which sent me from X-rated to R. But when Simon saw that see-through material peeking through the jacket, he’d get the message.
I set off for the bus stop, more excited about my first day of work than I’d ever expected to be.
Chapter Two
The offices of Cowell & Dirk were on the fourth floor of a fairly new office building in a spruced-up downtown neighborhood. They’re always trying to fix up my town, and it always slides back to its real self—no-good slacker. If my town was a guy, he’d be the one who carries a switchblade in his back pocket and tries to act like he’s supercool, but everyone sees through him right away, including your parents. He’d be the one who tries to put roofies in your drink because he knows that’s the only way he’s going to get into your pants. He’d be the high school loser who, to no one’s surprise, ends up doing time for some dumb-ass crime like robbing a liquor store with a squirt gun.
Anyway, Cowell & Dirk had snagged an office in one of the nicer buildings on the block. Their name was there in the glass-covered directory in the lobby. The black security guard barely looked up as I signed in.
“I’m going to Cowell & Dirk’s offices,” I told him. “Happen to know what they do up there?”
“They use the back entrance, mostly. Parking garage.”
“I mean, do you know what kind of business it is?”
“What kind?” The security guard gave me a look that said I was the stupidest white girl he’d talked to that day. Then he saw my see-through blouse and suddenly looked a lot less bored. “What do you want to know about ’em?”
“Anything you can tell me. What business are they in? How do they treat their people? Do they work late? Order Domino’s for lunch? Come on, you gotta know something about them.”
“They’re on the fourth floor, that’s all I know. Figured they were accountants or somethin’. Lotta accountants in this building. Couple of insurance agents. White-collar territory, you know. Quiet building. You sure you’re in the right place?”
“Well, if I don’t come out by five, come and check on me, would you?” I winked at him. Nothing wrong with getting the security guard on your side.
“You know it.”
I felt his eyes following me as I walked to the elevators. My outfit sure was an attention-grabber.
Cowell & Dirk’s offices were all the way at the end of the hall. My heart beat faster the closer I got. What would Simon Dirk think when he saw my outfit? Or—what if he wasn’t there and I met Mr. Cowell instead? How would he react to my appearance? By the time I opened the door, a nervous pulse was pitter patting in my neck.
The sight of Simon Dirk sitting at the receptionist’s desk sent my pulse soaring to hyperventilation levels. He was in the middle of writing something on a notepad. His light gray suit jacket lay on the desk, as if he’d taken it off right before he’d stopped to answer the phone. Since my interview with him, I’d wondered a few times if I’d exaggerated his hotness out of wishful thinking or simply horniness. The moment he lifted his head, that idea was shot down. If anything, I hadn’t appreciated his full sexual voltage.
Simon in the morning, freshly shaven, was even sexier than the three-thirty-shadow man of last Friday. His eyes looked even greener, his mouth even more intriguing. When he saw me, his body went still for a moment, his pen stopping mid-note. I took a deep breath and walked toward him.
“Good morning.” I smiled cheerily and took off my jacket. For a moment, I stood in front of him. He took me in, transparent blouse, black-lace-encased nipples and all. I felt immensely powerful as his pen dropped from his fingers.
“Good morning,” he answered smoothly. “I’m glad to see you. I wasn’t sure you’d be here today.”
“Oh?” I pretended to have no idea what he was talking about. Spotting a coat rack in one corner, I strolled to it with my jacket dangling from one oh-so-casual finger.
“Not everyone is willing to fill our needs. Or,” as I turned back from the coat rack, “able to.”
“I pride myself on my need-filling ability.” I sauntered back toward the desk, loving the way his eyes ate me up.
“So far, you fill them magnificently.”
A spark ignited deep in my belly. Something about the way his head tilted back and his eyes narrowed in on my chest. With another man, it would have seemed, well, inappropriate to say the least. With Simon, it was a different story. I felt noticed. Appreciated. And very turned on.
>
“That’s nice to hear. Would you like to walk me through my duties? Or are you planning to answer the phones today?”
I walked around the desk and stood next to him, not too close, of course. I wanted to make sure there was a job in this job. They weren’t paying me to wear pretty lingerie. Or were they?
Simon picked up his pen, finished his note, and got to his feet. Somehow, during that maneuver, the pen managed to brush against the side of my breast. I felt an excited twinge all the way down to my toes. My nipples rose with embarrassing eagerness. But Simon didn’t seem to pay any attention to that. Suddenly, maddeningly, he was all business. His eyes took on a kind of shuttered look.
“The phone is all yours. Headset’s in the drawer. Please use it. I don’t want you to get a neck cramp. Any urgent calls, send them through. Otherwise, I’m unavailable until lunchtime.”
Unavailable. That’s exactly how he seemed all of a sudden. And I felt overly available, with my nipples hardening against the teasing lace, hanging out for the entire world to see. Simon walked briskly toward the door that apparently led to his office.
“Oh, and Ms. Arthur…”
“You can call me Dana.”
“Better wear your jacket.” He grabbed it off the coat rack and tossed it to me. I caught it, my face burning. I felt awfully silly as I put the jacket back on. What exactly was I expecting? Really, I didn’t know. Except—something different. That’s all I wanted. Something different. Something non-boring.
Turns out, it’s not boring at all to answer phones in a teddy. I was constantly aware of every move I made. Even with the headset on, meaning I didn’t have to lean to pick up the phone, I still had to punch the right button. Even that slight motion brought a tingle to the tips of my breasts. At first, it was distracting. I put through several calls (callers who insisted it was urgent) that I didn’t remember two minutes after they came in. Each time, I’d hear Simon’s voice say “Yes?”, I’d tell him who was on the line, and he’d say “Thanks”. That was it. And yet—I wasn’t bored. Not for a second. Another thing I noticed. The sound of Simon’s voice on the intercom, and the awareness that he knew exactly what I was wearing, down to the skin, kept the pool of heat in my lower body at a low simmer.
Around ten-thirty, the package delivery guy came into the office. He was a young guy, studly type, way too friendly. He gave me a hearty handshake and a goofy little bow.
“I come here often, hope you don’t get sick of me.” He winked.
I was already sick of him. Eager puppy-dog types are not my thing. But I gave him a polite-enough smile. “I doubt that. It’s nice to know a friendly face.”
His eyes darted down my front. I was very glad I was wearing the jacket. Guy like that, he’d be humping my leg at the first hint of an invite. “Well…guess I better get going. See ya tomorrow, or later today if I get more packages. Sometimes there’s, you know, deliveries that come in late, or…” I tuned him out while he rattled on about the complexities of the international package delivery system.
As soon as he left, I pressed Simon’s intercom button. “Packages are here. Want me to bring them in?”
“That’s okay. I’ll be out in a bit.”
I’d already gotten to my feet, but now I sank back, ridiculously disappointed. More than anything, I wanted to see Simon’s office. I wanted to see what he looked like in his office. What kind of desk he had. Did he have a rolly chair? Photos on his desk? Bearskin rug on the floor? Seriously, though, I was becoming a teeny bit obsessed with the guy.
He didn’t come out in a bit. I spent the rest of the morning all by my lonesome, answering calls, punching buttons, my nipples getting harder and harder.
By the time lunch rolled around, I was feeling pretty darn itchy.
Around noon, Simon called on the intercom. “Do you have lunch plans for your first day?”
“Um, no.” My plans hadn’t extended past wowing him when I walked in.
“Why don’t you come on back to my office? Can’t have you going hungry on day one.”
A wild thrill rushed through me as he clicked off the line. I was going to see Sexy Simon in his inner sanctum. The wet heat between my legs grew more intense. I put the automatic answering system on and headed through the mysterious door. I almost expected it to be a portal to another world, that’s how much I’d built it up in my mind.
I guess maybe that’s what it was.
But it looked like any other office suite. A small kitchenette separated two offices. Simon’s was the big one in the corner, the other one was dark. It must belong to the missing Mr. Cowell. I made a mental note to ask about him, but forgot it as soon as I walked into Simon’s office. There was something so riveting about the guy. Something that grabbed your attention and wouldn’t let you look away.
He stood at the wall-to-ceiling picture window that looked out over the depressing downtown. His jacket was off, hands in his pockets. I stopped just inside the door. When I closed it behind me, I felt a strange sense of safety. As if anything could happen inside this beige space and it would be okay.
“You can take off your jacket now,” he said without turning around.
My heart seemed to jump into my throat. Every nerve ending in my body stood at attention. I opened my mouth to say something snappy, but nothing came out. Instead, I slid one arm out of my jacket, then the other. Not sure what to do with it, I dropped it to the floor.
“Good. Now you can put your hands on your nipples.”
I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure I’d heard right. Besides, my heart was beating too fast. There was a long pause while we both stood still, me looking at his back, him looking out the window. Finally, he turned and gave me a mild stare.
“You’re not touching your nipples.”
I cleared my throat. “No.”
“I would imagine they’re in need of some contact right now. How do they feel? Aroused? Irritated?” His expression was one of concerned interest.
He had a point. “Like I want to jump out of my skin,” I admitted.
“Ah, I thought so. That’s why I suggested touching them. I certainly wouldn’t want you to jump out of that beautiful skin. Would you like to try it now?”
In the back of my mind, I wondered why we were talking about my nipples rather than proper phone procedure, or some other job-related issue. But his green eyes flicked over my body, scattering sparks of heat wherever they went, and before I knew it my hands rose to my tits. I put my fingers around my nipples. The heat of them surprised me. My poor nipples were burning up under there. How had he known it was exactly what I needed, to touch myself like that?
“Tighter,” came Simon’s soft, almost hypnotic voice.
I pressed tighter and felt the texture of the lace dig into my flesh. My breath caught and my face flushed. A jolt of heat zinged on a straight line from my nipples to my insides. Moisture sprang between my legs. Startled by my body’s reaction, I snatched my hands away from my nipples.
“Did I ask you to stop?” Simon sounded disappointed. Reproving. My hands jumped back to my breasts. “No, stop,” he said.
I stopped, hands hovering a few inches away from my breasts.
“I want to see what you look like now. Unbutton your blouse.”
What the F? Was my brand-new boss really telling me to undo my blouse? And was I really on fire to do whatever he said? It kills me to admit it, but I couldn’t disobey him. Didn’t want to. He was leading me somewhere with that sexy voice. Somewhere I’d never been. Somewhere I wanted to go. I unbuttoned my blouse and drew it off my shoulders. I dropped it onto the floor, on top of my jacket. The stuffy office air felt cool against my skin.
“Beautiful,” said Simon, a note of approval in his voice. “Exactly how I’d pictured it on you. But your hair’s all wrong. It should be piled on your head. Do it.”
That last phrase came out stronger, more like an order. Without thinking, I filled my hands with my hair and pulled it to the top of my head. It felt thick and
silky against my hands. I’d never been quite so aware of the feel of my hair before.
Simon walked across the office with deliberate slowness. When he got to my side, he walked around me. From behind, I felt his finger touch lightly on the back of my neck.
“Fascinating tattoo.” He seemed to realize it was still tender back there, because he didn’t linger on the tattoo. Instead he traced his finger along the side of my neck, down the rounded front of my shoulder, into the crevice between my breasts, creating a trail of fire wherever he touched. Then he delved under the lace of the teddy. Unbearable excitement filled me as he lifted my nipple away from the fabric.
“Mm,” he said noncommittally as he examined my nipple. He reached around my back and brought the other one out of its nest. His body, strong and smelling of some kind of jet-set aftershave, pressed against me. In the office window, I saw our reflection. His intent face bent over my shoulder, his hands at my front, tugging at my nipples. Me in a provocative teddy and tight hobble skirt. The sight added to my excitement and I leaned back against him. “You’ve had an interesting morning, haven’t you?” He murmured in my ear. “Look how these juicy little morsels swelled up. I bet that lace teased you hard, didn’t it? Rubbed up against you like a rough little kitten tongue. I thought about you all morning, thought about these breasts stirring under your blouse. Thought about how wet it must be making you. Thought about how your nipples would feel against my hands, all hard and excited and…”
A spasm shook my body. It shocked me. What was happening to me? It was as if he had suddenly acquired ownership of the body that had previously been mine. I was dancing to his tune, singing at his command.
He pulled my nipples again, hard, and again my body arched back against him. I felt his erection press against my ass. The thought that I’d given him that hard-on made me even more excited. I wanted him to ravage me with it. Grind it deep. I squirmed and panted, but he wouldn’t let me get closer to his cock.