"Boss, can I talk to you?"

I looked up, it was Cameron Nhite. Cameron is a college sophomore who had
come to work for me last October, shortly after the current school year had
begun. I pushed myself back from my computer desk and swiveled my chair to
face her. "Close the door and take a seat Cammy."

She turned back to the door and I let my eyes rove up and down her ripe,
petite young body. 'Was it finally time?' I thought to myself, watching her
movements. She was wearing a bright yellow tank top like thing today, over
her normal low-cut, underwire bra and the two left lots of cleavage for the
viewing, leaving hardly anything for people's imaginations. Just below her
breasts that top squeezed in tight to her young body, sculpting her form to
just above her navel where her own skin pushed out, ever so slightly, below
the hem of that top. A short expanse of tanned skin, and her short skirt
began low on her hips, a kind of green plaid wrap around number with lines
of yellow and white interlaced through the pattern. Barely covering an
excellent firm butt, that skirt tipped and wriggled and flounced, jerking
and bouncing this way and that with her movements as she walked about in the
store. The day she had stood in my office and passed over her application I
had decided I was going to have that body.

I own two stores, side by side with one another. The Harley Davidson
motorcycle shop next door and this one, selling portable spas, hot tubs and
patio furniture. Tables, chairs, umbrellas and the like. This store did a
booming business when compared to the other. Two large warehouses I'd put up
behind the two shops, insured I could buy in enough volume that my inventory
cost me only about a third of what I charged for it. In all honesty, the
Harley Davidson shop, most often, barely paid for itself, but it was a labor
of love for me. I had opened this store in an effort to support it and keep
it open during some of the lean years. Since then, the Patio and Spa Shoppe
had become my primary money maker.

I had twelve employees between the two stores. Four in the Harley store, two
sales people, a mechanic and Samantha, a woman I'd gone to High School with
ten years ago. She managed the place, acted as a sales woman, mechanic,
display arranger, just about everything that was needed. Except the books,
that was my bailiwick.

Here, I had one permanent sales person, Old Tom. At forty-eight, Tom was
twenty years my senior and one hell of a salesman. He'd caused me to be
caught by the short hairs a couple of times, because he would lie through
his teeth to a customer to make a sale. But the sheer volume of his sales -
and my profit margin because of it - made him a valued employee. He'd have a
job here as long as he wanted to stay. Assisting Tom were six 'temps', as I
called them. All females, they came from the universities and colleges in
the county. All attractive, all with great bodies, if somewhat more marginal
sales skills, their sex appeal and eyelash batting alone helped them in the
sales department.

I considered them temporary employees because they were all, intentionally,
from out of state and always left after they graduated, if not before. The
store attracted them because my starting sales staff wage was three and four
dollars more an hour than any other store in the area. Plus I paid them a
seven percent commission - starting. Still, in a college area like this one,
it was barely enough to make ends meet for them, unless they were phenomenal
sales people from the get go. Their hours, starting, were always in the
part-time range until they 'established themselves' with me. Cammy had yet
to do so . . . she was the only one of the sales girls I had not screwed
yet.

Cammy pulled out one of the padded plastic chairs I keep in the office for
sales people and employees who wanted to talk. Setting it at an angle to
mine, so her legs would not point directly at me, she sat, crossed her
nearer leg over the further one, and placed her hands in her lap.

"Now, what can I help you with today?" I asked her.

"I hope I'm not being too blunt about this, but what does a girl have to do
to get more hours and a raise around here?"

"Do you think you deserve a raise?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I've been working here for six months now and I've
gotten good enough that I'm selling more . . . I'm always on time . . . I
try to do more around the store than a couple of the other's seem to do, and
yet I know Becky, who started the same time I did, has gotten two pay raises
since then while I have gotten none. I like it here, but I need more money."

"Rebecca also brings a suit with her and spends a couple of hours daily
'demonstrating' our tubs. You do not. Her sales are mostly made while she is
sitting in the spa demonstrating it for her customers. I have yet to see you
do more than dip a hand in one. Rebecca also stays late every week or so and
helps me with some things, as do all of the other girls, and you have yet to
volunteer for extra duties. Rebecca also volunteered to be in my last set of
commercials for airing on the local cable network. True, you are always on
time, your sales have improved - some, and you are always neat and tidy. But
I'm not sure you have the true commitment to your position here that the
others have shown."

"What commitment? Pardon me, but Sheila hardly ever lifts a dust rag or a
broom. I've never seen her restock a shelf or help with the displays. If
there is not a customer in the store, she's in the break area stuffing her
face and reading one of her romance novels. She and Taffy have also never
been in the spas that I've seen and, though she will help with the display
arrangements and set ups, Taffy seems to not be much better than Sheila
over-all. Besides, though they have been here longer, I believe I out sell
both of them."

"You're right, about both of them when it comes to store cleanliness, and
they are both lousy at maintaining the chemical balances in the spas and I
have forbidden both from ever testing a customers water chemistry. But they
both have fantastic computer skills. Sheila maintains and updates all of the
store's computer inventory and price lists. While Taffy was the designer of
and does all of the weekly updates for our web site. All of the other girls
take their turns in the tubs during business hours, all wearing their skimpy
suits. Rumors around town of their modeling the tubs, and of their skimpy
suits, helps draw in some of our customers. So, the skimpier the better I
say."

"That's sexist."

"Probably. But it's also a simple fact and it's good for business. Besides,
getting back to Sheila and Taffy, Sheila gives a great blow job and Taffy
likes it up the ass . . . what are you doing for me?"

"What?"

"The other girls, 'all' of the other girls, help themselves towards pay
raises and full-time status here by helping to take care of my sexual needs.
Wednesday, when we were closed, Rebecca and Jennifer came in and put on a
kind of lesbian strip and sex show for me, even letting me film it . . . I
didn't know a girl could do that with a beer bottle. I repeat, though, what
have you done for me?"

"That's sexual harassment."

"According to the courts, maybe. But, in point of fact, it is part of my
raise policy here and a fact of life you'll have to deal with if you ever
want a raise . . . or, since we are having this conversation, if you even
wish to continue your employment here. I am giving you your two-week notice
right now. (If you want to keep your job here, and if you want to receive
raises, you will begin granting me sexual favors in the next two weeks or
you will be let go and forced to find employment elsewhere. You should go
back to work now and think about it."

"But that's not fair."

"Maybe not, but it is the way things stand."

"But, I'm a virgin . . . I've never . . ."

"Then you can give me blow jobs - if you are any good at them, or take it up
the ass - like Taffy does, or give me a daily strip and a hand job . . . but
you will do something."

"And if I report you?"

"This conversation was done one on one, behind closed doors. There are no
witnesses and if you try to press matters, the other girls will not back you
up. If a police officer shows up here, I will claim that you came in and
offered me sexual favors in return for a raise I felt you did not deserve. I
informed you, when you made such and offer, of my intent to terminate your
employment and your false charges must be your way of striking back at me.
Before you leave today I will be giving you a written declaration of my
intent to let you go and a copy will be entered into your employment
records. You have two weeks . . . now get out of my office and back to work
. . . or leave, which I will accept as your desire to quit outright."

She was crying when she left and I used the intercom to call the front sales
desk, asking Sheila to prepare an intent to terminate letter for Cammy, to
present her with it and place a copy in the girl's employment file.



I was nine days later, a Tuesday night, and the store was already closed. I
was finishing up the day's receipts at my computer and looking forward to
going out front and joining Linda in the big display tub. She'd said she
would stay late for an hour or two tonight. I was taking my time
intentionally . . . Linda always started without me and the longer I gave
her the hotter she would be when I arrived to join her. Linda was not my
favorite, in fact, she was kind of scrawny, her tits were too small, her
face too thin - dominated by a overlarge hooked nose, and her pussy was kind
of loose and sloppy when I fucked her . . . but get her started, or let her
get herself started, and she was a very high energy fuck.

I closed the file and sighed. It was looking like Cammy was not going to
take me up on my proposition. I'd seen her around the store the days she had
worked and, though I had not spoken to her any differently than before our
raise meeting, she had always turned away from me. The only time she had
spoken to me since was when she was forced to, for special lower pricing on
a furniture set she was selling. 'Too bad,' I thought as I rose from my
chair. 'I think she could have been my favorite . . . she has the potential,
whether she knows it or not.'

I walked onto the display floor and received a surprise. Linda was not there
waiting for me, but Cammy was, lounging fully clothed in one of the larger
'dry' display tubs.

"Hello, Cammy. You're here a little late aren't you?"

"I asked Linda to let me stay in her place." she said, a somewhat sheepish
smile on her face. "What do you want to do to me?"

My suspicions were aroused. Though it was what I wanted, what I had hoped
for, there was something about her supposed casualness and her words that
put me on my guard. She would not be the first one to try and trap me, if
that is what she was trying to do. There was a way to find out though.

I moved behind the sales counter and reached below the cash register without
responding. Turning on the store's Public Address systems I flipped on the
radio and turned up the volume. The musical selections from one of the
area's easy listening stations filled the inside of the store and I turned
the dial to a more upbeat rock and roll station I actually preferred. My
eyes had never left hers where she lay in the tub's molded lounger and I
held up one hand waggling my fingers at her, calling her over.

Her expression was puzzled, but she moved, standing and exiting the tub,
moving to where I stood behind the counter. Her hands moving to the lowest
buttons on the rather staid blouse she was wearing that day. I stopped her,
both her forward movement and her fingers on the buttons with a hand signal.
"Stand there." I moved about the store then, ostensibly turning out lights
as I went, but looking around inside for hidden video or other equipment,
checking outside, around the store, through the windows as I darkened the
interior lighting - looking for possible watchers. I might be about to have
a six month old dream finally coming true, but that didn't make me
completely stupid.

When I was done, and I was fairly certain that there was nothing and no one
set to capture what was about to happen, I returned to Cammy and signaled
for her to follow me. She started to speak, licked her lips and opened her
mouth to do so and I stopped her, holding a finger to my lips in a sign for
silence before leading her into the back room. This was the repair shop and
staging area, a room I spent three or four hours in a day, repairing those
things that needed it and working with one of the temp girls to prepare new
hot tubs for display on the sales floor. There was a new one here today, a
line out of Canada that we had not carried before but I was willing to try.
The molded fiberglass shell was done in a white marble finish and had only
just had the protective plastic shipping wrap removed that afternoon. Since
it was the first tub from this company in our store, I planned to spend most
of tomorrow going over it in detail. Mostly disassembling to insure it was
good enough to be sold here. The music levels were even louder in this room
than they had been out front. If she were wired for sound, all that would be
coming through was radio noise.

I signaled her to get into the tub and she did so, leaning to lift one leg
over the side wall and then resting her butt on it to left the trailing leg
inside. That was one of the things I liked about her, one of the things that
really turned me on. Her height, or lack of it. It had been her petite size
and almost little girl looks that had fascinated me from the start. That and
the large grown-woman tits, on her twenty year old body. that wanted to
spill out of her clothing the day I hired her. I think she always wore the
clothing she did, the tight cleavage-displaying tops, sprayed on jeans and
short skirts, as much to announce to the world that she was a woman and not
a little girl, as for any other reason. Her little girl looks, atop that
mature if tiny body, were part and parcel of what I thought made her
successful in the sales game. Male customers would be fascinated by her
movements and body as she led them about the store, distracting them a bit
from the exact details of her sales pitch at times. Those who thought they
could bully this little girl into a lower price usually talked themselves
into a higher one, whether they realized it or not. I'd watched her do it.
With women, she turned on the little girl charm and moved to de-sentuate her
body, regardless of her clothing.

When she was standing in the middle of the tub I leaned forward and placed
my hands on it's edge, speaking too softly for her to hear me over the
music. She leaned forward, across the lounger and positioned herself to the
left of me, hands also on the tub's top edge. I reached across with my right
hand and slipped it under her hair, pushing it back from the side of her
face, her ear and placing my hand across the back of her neck. She shrank
back a bit at my touch, then leaned forward deliberately, closer to my face
and into my touch.

It probably seemed to her that I was trying for a better look at her face,
or was making some gentle contact in prelude to things starting. What I was
actually doing was checking for anything on her ear, her collar, or wires at
the back of her neck . . . sound equipment that cops used - like in the
movies. I found none and leaned close to her ear.

Speaking softly, so my voice would not carry over the music, I said, "Before
we do one thing more, you need to say yes to something for me. You can speak
or nod your head, whatever you wish, but I need a response. Do you
understand what I am saying?" It took a moment, but she nodded her head. "I
want to know that you are doing this by your own ultimate choice." Again the
pause and her head began to move. "Wait, before you answer. Understand, yes
. . . I am pressuring you, have pressured you to where you are now, but the
final choice 'is' yours. You can say no and go somewhere else to work. I am
not going to rape you or keep you from leaving. I want to know, I want you
to know that you are doing this because you want to stay here and that it is
your 'choice' to do so. You may answer now."

"I want to stay here, to work for you. It is my choice to do this." If there
was a microphone on her, she just said some magic words for me that was
probably much better picked up than any words of mine. Any microphone she
was wearing was likely taped to her ribs, beneath her clothing and would
have picked up her voice, her words directly from her body.

"Okay, you may remove your clothing now, down to your panties. Stand in the
center of the tub."

She moved back and very matter of factly removed her blouse, skirt, tennis
shoes and white ankle socks. She had not been wearing a bra which had
surprised me. She stood for a moment, her breasts seeming to point somewhat
away from one another on her narrow chest, there was a single dark mole on
the inside curve of her right breast. She brought her hands up, crossing
them at the wrists below her breasts, as each reached to the opposite breast
and covered it, lifting it slightly as it did so. Glancing down, she was
wearing a pair of blue and white checked panties, looking for all the world
like the same pattern as an old gingham apron my grandmother used to wear
while baking.

I saw no wires or devices anywhere about her, nor had there been signs of
any in those articles of clothing she had removed. I finally allowed myself
to relax and simply look at her, at her charms. "Raise your arms above your
head," I said. She looked at me for a minute then complied, smiling slightly
as she did so. Her breasts rising on her chest as her arms straightened,
moving closer together as they rose. She straightened her arms completely,
grasping her right wrist with her left hand and turning partly sideways
where she stood. She didn't push out her chest or arch her back the way so
many women would, but stood relaxed before me. After a moment, she did raise
her right foot and place it on the edge of the seat behind her, causing her
legs to part and the panties to pull more conformingly against the mound of
her pussy. A mound it was too, her pelvis seeming to push both forward and
down from her flat belly as she stood there almost bulging against the
material between her legs.

There was a small tattoo on the inside of her right ankle and had she not
raised and supported the foot I would have missed it. It was a small
butterfly and would normally have been hidden by her socks. "Spin for me.
Turn in place and let me see all of you. Then, sit down and lounge back."
She turned slowly in place where she stood and stopped when her back was
towards me. Reaching behind her she slipped her thumbs into the waistband of
her panties and slid them down a bit. I was about to tell her not to remove
them, but she stopped on her own, just after another small tattoo had come
into view. It was an eye. She had the tattoo of an eye, complete with
makeup, just at the top of her ass crack, below her spine and her tan line.
She arched, tipping her shoulders backwards and somehow pushing her butt up
and the thing narrowed. It was as if it were either looking at me, or trying
to wink at me, I didn't know which.

She completed her turn and said, "Lots of boys have seen my butterfly, and a
few have seen my third eye, though very few. I have a third tattoo as well
and no boy has ever seen it yet. Do you want to see it?" She was smiling as
she talked and had slowly lowered herself into a seated position across form
me, sitting on the edge of the molded seat and lounging back against the far
wall of the spa.

"Where is it?" I asked and she pointed to an area beneath her panties, a
little above and to the left of her pussy. "Not just yet. I'll see it a
little later, either tonight or another time. I have some very specific
things I want you to do just now though, so it will wait. Tell me, do you
masturbate?"

"What?"

"You told me you are a virgin. But I know you will have had urges and needs
over the years like any other woman, so the question is, do you masturbate?
It's perfectly common, both men and women do it."

"Her eyes lowered a bit and she said, yes, yes I do. Sometimes."

"Raise your feet to the seat on this side of the tub, spreading your legs a
bit. I want to see between them." She raised her legs and placed her toes on
the near seat edge, spreading her legs widely. I thought I saw a slightly
darker streak in the pattern of her panties. "Is this exciting you a
little?"

"A little, yes. I had thought I would hate it, even though, once I decided
to go through with it, I tried telling myself I might as well enjoy it, I
didn't think I would. But there's something about it, not having a choice
and all, that I find kind of exciting. Oh, and I'm not, not now."

"Not what?"

"Not a virgin. Saturday night, knowing I would be doing this and hearing
horror stories from girlfriends in High School about pain, I decided to do
it myself. My roommate was out on a date so I borrowed her vibrator and oil,
then I masturbated until I orgasmed. I thought I never would, as tense as I
was, but I finally did and in the middle of it I deflowered myself."

"Did it hurt?"

"Not as much as I thought it would. The orgasm helped I think, that is why I
did it that way. Someone told me it was easier."

"Have you put anything else inside of you since?"

"Only the vibrator again. I was a little stiff Sunday, so I waited until
last night."

"What did you think of it?"

"It felt a little funny, kind of full, but not too bad. This is making me
hornier, can we move on to something else?"

"Getting the urge to masturbate are you?"

She blushed, the red rising into her face from her neck. "Yeah, kind of."

"Then go ahead . . . masturbate."

"What? Right here in front of you?"

"That's the idea. But you don't have to remove or move your panties . . .
you can do it inside of them. I'll just watch for now. Close your eyes if
you wish." She didn't though, but kept here eyes locked on mine as she began
rubbing her pussy through her panties.

I stood by and watched. Two, three minutes passed before there was any real
change to her actions, though the fingers did change their motions often,
going from a straight stroke, to a circling motion, full four finger
pressure to a single finger or the two center ones only. After a few
minutes, during which she hardly seemed to blink, the moisture levels in her
panties increased and they began to drag more. When the panties began
hanging up between her vaginal lips as she stroked herself, her hands
changed their positions.

Until now, her left hand had been doing all of the stroking while her right
was curled over the edge of the plastic spa seat. It never really moved or
changed position, though the knuckles and fingertips had whitened a time or
two as she increased her grip on the seat. Now though, her eyes closed for a
minute and her breath caught, the right hand curling quickly from the seat
beside her and up to her breasts as the rubbing actions of her left hand
began becoming more rapid. Her panties seemed to be troubling her though and
as her right hand began pulling and squeezing at a nipple, her left began
pushing at the waistband of her panties. With her hand out of the way I
could see the crotch of her panties clearly for the first time since she had
begun. The material was soaked and plastered to her skin. It gave a perfect
outline of what lay beneath having molded itself to her shape and become
partly translucent in the bargain. There was the hint of hair at the top of
her slit, and it made me happy to see that she wasn't one of those clean
shavers. There was a crease in the center of the material that disappeared
between her pussy lips.

Her left hand finally made it inside of her panties though, pulling the fold
free of her crease as her fingers pushed in for more direct contact. Her
eyes opened again and she pinched her nipple between her finger and the
knuckle of her forefinger, pulling it almost savagely, lifting the breast
and making a funnel shape of her areola. The nipple slipped from her grip
and snapped back into her chest. She took a fresh hold, her fingers seeming
to squeeze tighter tighter than before, her hand pull harder. The breast,
nipple and areola all stretched, seeming to thin slightly as she forcibly
elongated them. Her mouth opened and her eyes narrowed, I thought that a man
doing something that savagely would be painful and abusive to her, rather
than stimulating. The breast burst free of her grip, practically flying back
to her chest like an overstretched balloon suddenly being released. It
seemed to bounce there and wobble about a bit, but only for a second or so
as her hand returned to it immediately, grasping as much of it as she was
able and squeezing until her knuckles began to whiten.

"You should get the panties out of the way now." and both of her hands came
free, diving to the crotch of her panties, the nails digging in as she
stretched and pulled at the fabric. It seemed that the fabric would win the
little test of wills, but finally a thread parted, a nail bit more deeply
and the panties tore across the crotch from leg seam to leg seam. One edge
flapped loosely against the fiberglass below her buttocks, while she tore
the front panel back until her pussy and much of the abdomen her panties had
covered were bared. Once bared, I found that my impressions had been right
on two counts and I examined her closely as she placed her hands onto her
upper thighs and smiled at me across the small distance. Her pussy mound did
indeed push both forward and downwards from her crotch, and would have
seemed very childlike were it not for the hair above and the long hood that
protruded from the narrow crack. The hair too was there, as I'd thought, but
not hardly appearing as I thought it would. She had shaved and trimmed it
into a perfect letter 'V', each wing of the letter angling upwards along the
angle of her thigh, just inside of a tan-line. It looked almost like an
arrow pointing the way towards her goodies.

She had begun to slide her hands inwards, slowly lowering them around her
thighs to the apex of her crotch once more. A thought seemed to strike her
and she looked down at herself. Her lower lip coming out in a pout, she took
her right hand free and grabbed the torn panties again, tearing them further
to the right, above the angle of her thigh. A tattoo appeared, just inside
of the tan line, a little above that wing of the 'V'. She held back the flap
of panty and looked at me, being sure I saw it before returning her hand to
her thigh. It had been a tattoo of Mickey Mouse . . . Mickey Mouse with one
arm raised, fist closed and center finger extended, while his mouth was open
in his characteristic laugh.

Cammy slipped her hands inside her thighs and used her forefingers to gently
spread the lips of her sex. It opened only slightly though, showing the long
peak of her clitoral hood and the bright pink of the gash between.

"Wider," I said and she pressed her fingers a little firmer, down and out,
pulling things open further until I could see the tip of her urethra and her
vaginal tunnel began to open slightly.

"Welcome aboard?" she said questioningly.

"You'd like something in there would you?"

"I'd like to try. Find out how it feels with the real thing instead of just
the tip of a finger or that plastic thing I've used twice now."

"Well, you'll have to settle for a finger for the moment. use the fingers of
one hand to excite your clitoris and put your other index finger as far
inside as you can. Use that finger to fuck yourself, move it about inside as
you do until you find the angle it feels best." Her lip came out in a pout
but she did as I instructed.

When she tore her underwear as she had, my feelings of caution had returned.
Torn clothing could be construed as a sign of forced sex, and whether true
or not, considering the fact that my methods could and probably would be see
as blackmail and office place sexual harassment, I was not going to chance
any deposit within or on her today. I'd have to settle for a masturbation
session tonight. I still wanted to see her get herself off tonight though.

With the fingers of one hand twirling in tight circles at the top of her
pussy and the other's index finger jabbing at herself, her breathing was
beginning to get a little deeper and a slight flush was creeping into the
skin of her upper chest. "Add a second finger to your pussy and try to move
your hand a little quicker." She stared at me as if not comprehending, then
complied, her middle finger joining the index with hardly a pause in her
hand movement. Her eyes got wider, her mouth opened more her breathing
deepened still more. She moved her left hand from her clitoris to a breast.
She massaged her nipple more gently this time, pressing the hardened nubbin
against her finger with her thumb. Rubbing the tip of a nail across the
trapped point. Her thumb was moving in a roughly circular motion, beginning
at the bottom of the nipple, pushing it into the side of her finger and
allowing her thumb to slide up it, pushing it up and out before twirling the
thumb back down and around to the base and repeating the motion. She hadn't
forgotten her clitoris though, but had slightly cupped her fucking hand and
with each thrust into herself she was slapping her palm against the top of
her vaginal slot sharply.

"Add a third finger." Her eyes bulged, her head began moving from side to
side in little jerks as if trying to deny my request, but within a few
strokes the ring finger had joined the other two, spreading her opening
wide, wider than I thought it had ever been if what she'd said earlier was
true.

Her head was thrown back now, eyes closed, mouth tightly shut as the breath
whooshed in and out of her nose in ragged surges. I watched the flaring and
contracting at the tip of her nose for a moment, then became aware of the
flush spreading into her cheeks. Scanning downwards, her upper chest was
flushed a bright red now and the hand manipulating her breast was no longer
touching the nipple itself, but was massaging the breast as a whole. fingers
sliding across the sensitive, darkened areola without coming into contact
with the rigid nubbin. The very tip of the nipple itself had gone white in
it's rigidity and excitement.

Between her legs, those thick protruding outer lips had flushed with color
in the past few minutes and the vaginal opening itself was no longer
shrinking back with each quick stroke of her fingers, but seemed to hold its
stretch as if awaiting the expected next invasion. Her hand was moving
furiously now, quick hard strokes, each one a slap against the now distended
hood shrouding her clitoris. Each plunge into herself seemed to not only be
stretch the hole side to side, but with the addition of the slap to her
clitoris, the invading fingers were pulling upwards as well. It  had been
forced open to the point it was truly a tunnel now. Moving my head slightly
I was able to see those inches within where the walls of her vagina rejoined
and seemed to be a coiling, shifting writhing creature trying to hibernate
within it's cave, yet having to constantly shift it's position for it's
changing circumstances.

A groan sounded in her throat suddenly, and it sounded loudly, even
considering the music coming from the speakers high behind me. Her head
snapped to the left, her body twitched and her right foot fell to the floor
of the tub. Her left hand gripped and squeezed her breast - hard. The
fingers of her right hand slammed savagely into her pussy again and again
until suddenly the hand froze there. Her fingers seeming to curl in towards
her palm, making themselves into a fist inside herself. Even the little
finger, straight until now, curled under and made itself a home within,
joining it's brethren. Her back arched, her breathing stopped, everything
about her seemed to be on hold, frozen and she remained so for what seemed
the longest time. Then her right foot, in the bottom of the tub twitched,
once, twice and a third time and she slumped where she sat, back slouching
against the seat back behind her, left foot also slipping to the floor of
the tub. Her left hand remained where it was, but was now completely
relaxed. The right hand and it's fingers relaxed, the hand shifting a bit,
the fingers slowly being pushed out as her pussy seemed to pulse back into
it's closed condition with each new breath she took.

It had been quite a show. I stood where I was for the few short seconds it
took for her to begin coming around. When she did, the first thing she did
was to lightly rub at and cup the lips of her pussy. Smiling sheepishly up
at me she said, "A little tender."

"Your three fingers combined are smaller in every way than my cock when it
is hard." Her eyes widened again as that soaked in. "I'm not going to do
anything with you tonight. I don't think you are ready for it. Get yourself
dressed, clean up this tub and go home." She honestly seemed disappointed,
but I was still not ready to trust the situation - not yet. "Come to my
office when you come in Thursday and we'll talk. Right now, I have more work
to do before I can leave."

"Do I get my raise?"

"Like I said, we'll talk Thursday, not now. Go home, enjoy your day off.
I'll see you Thursday."

"But, but . . . "


I had my back to her and was walking away.