Archive-name: Working/merseyas.mf
Archive-author: Nikolai Alekseivitch Kingsley
Archive-title: Merseya's Gifs


  ... that week i was going around to all the company's PCs, updating
the  network  software;  at  one  point  i  found myself alone in the
manager's  office  with  his  secretary,  Marseya.   She has a lovely
precise,  British  accent, which contrasts in an interesting way with
her  exotic  asian  looks;  dark brown shoulder-length hair, her lips
ever  pursed  on  the  edge  of  a  smile.   Her dress-sense... neat?
neatness isn't quite the word (although it would have been impossible
to  describe  her  as  untidy)...  fashionable?  i can't see her as a
slave  to the  dictates of others when it comes to clothes; all i can
say is  that  what  she  wore accentuated her slight figure in a very
attractive way.
  She  stayed  with  me while i was installing the updates, asking me
about  myself  as we waited for the software to de-compress.  i was a
bit  wary  at  first...  if she was a social climber, then she had no
good reason to talk to me (scum-bag that i am :-)... in retrospect, i
suppose  it was because she was one of the world's very few Genuinely
Nice People.
  i ran into a problem;  it seemed that the hard disk was almost full
and  the  temporary  working  space  required  by  the software as it
decompressed  wasn't  available.   `that's  a  60  meg  hard disk,' i
thought  to  myself,  `it  can't be full of word-processing documents
already; they've only had it for two months.'
  `Is  something  wrong?'  she  asked, her beautiful face shadowed by
concern.  I started looking around the hard disk, trying to find what
was taking up so much space.   There were one or two games, as usual;
she  admitted  that  the  manager played them sometimes during lunch.
However,   taking  up  almost  twenty  megabytes  was  an  impressive
collection  of  GIF files, some of which i recognised by their names;
`3GIRLS.GIF', `COUPLE2.GIF', `HORNY.GIF', and so on.
  `Are these his as well?' i asked with a wry grin.
  `Those are mine.'  she replied evenly.  I raised an eyebrow.
  `Imagine  that.   Can  you afford to lose about a dozen of them?' i
was surprised at her rueful expression.
  `Is that really necessary?  Can't we upload them to the fileserver,
or put them onto floppies,  or something?'   I like the `we' part,  i
thought.  Very conspiratorial.
  `We can't  access  the  server until the new network software is in
place...  and the new software won't be in place until we free up ten
megabytes  of  disk  space.   Do  you  have any blank floppies?'  She
spread her empty hands.
  `You  know  what  the  supply  department  is  like.  Oh well,' she
scowled,  `I shouldn't really have them on here anyway.' I started up
a  directory  utility,  allowing her to select and delete files which
she felt she could do without.   She freed up six megs,  but couldn't
decide which of the fifty-odd files that remained should go.   `Could
I  look  at  them  again?   It would help decide which ones to kill.'
Suppressing  a smile that threatened to turn into a lascivious smirk,
i nodded,  ran  my  handy-dandy  GIF viewer (don't leave home without
it!) and loaded the first file.  for a moment, i forgot to breathe...
two very attractive girls in a black marble bath-tub were caressing a
third,  sitting  on  the  edge  with  her  thighs  wrapped around the
water-spout.   All  three were naked; i didn't have to look very hard
to  see  that the third girl was Marseya.  `No, i'd like to keep that
one.' she murmured.  I could understand why!
  The  second  was  a  close-up  shot  of Marseya's face, showing her
draining  the  last  drops from a bottle of Perrier.  Her eyes burned
with lust,  her  tongue  caressing  the circle of the bottle's mouth.
  `Ah... next...'  i said, clearing my throat.  She smiled.  The next
two  files  had become corrupted somehow; i could just make out naked
figures  contorted  into vaguely tantric yoga positions.   We deleted
them and continued.
  The  next  one  was  in clip-art resolution - black and white - and
while  it  was  rather nicely Floyd-Steinberg dithered, i had to move
back a few feet from the screen and squint before i saw the image.
  `Is that YOU?'
  `Uh-huh.'
  `Doesn't that hurt?'  she slipped her arm around my shoulder.
  `At  first...'   I  took  a  deep  breath and passed on to the next
image.  After seeing the clip-art image, i didn't think that anything
else  could shock me... which was a pretty naive attitude to have.  i
could  only  stare  at  the screen, feeling the pixels slowly burning
holes in my retinas.   She knelt down next to my chair,  and i became
acutely aware of her proximity, the arousing aura of her perfume.  it
reminded me of something.   i realised that i was still sitting there
with my mouth open; i turned to her and said,
  `i never would have suspected that...'
  `that someone like me would do something like that?'
  `... that  someone like you would allow yourself to be photographed
doing something like that.   You don't strike me as someone who would
even think about bestiality,  much less...' i gestured at the screen.
Marseya's  face  lost  all traces of emotion,  becoming a blank mask.
the sudden change made me feel that i'd  slapped her across the face,
causing her to retreat.  she said, quietly,
  `You must think i'm some sort of pervert.' and she got up to leave.
i  grabbed  her  hand, forcing her to look at me as i put on the most
serious expression i had.  i said,
  `Not  at  all.  This looks a lot like my GIF collection, actually.'
some animation returned to her face.
 `You collect GIFs?  Like these?'  i smiled.
  `If you'd like to drop in to my place tonight, i'll show you.'  she
returned my smile warmly;  i felt a surge of something inside me that
was more intimate and somehow more noble than plain lust;  it was the
feeling of  two  wanderers meeting,  finding  that  they had the same
destination and that they were no longer alone.

         -           -           -           -           -

  that evening, i rushed about my room, picking clothes off the floor
(where they'd been lying for days) and stuffing them into the clothes
basket.   i  kicked the bedclothes into a heap,  then decided to make
the bed, to try and show that  i wasn't a complete slob.  i put on my
`motivation to make the bed' CD  (The Butthole Surfers'  `Hairway  to
Steven'),  and  got  to it.  The music was so loud that i didn't hear
Marseya come in through the unlocked front door.  i was singing along
with the CD;
  `Whaddaya  know  about reality... i AM reality...' when, out of the
corner  of  my  eye,  i  caught a glimpse of her, leaning against the
doorway  and  smiling.   i stared at her for a moment, biting my lip.
she  was  dressed  casually;  a  Country Road windcheater with ragged
cuffs;  a pair of faded denims and scuffed Reeboks.  when compared to
the  icy  Secretarial  Standard  Image that she presented at work, it
didn't  look  scruffy,  but rather, more personal, comfortable; as if
the way she dressed at work didn't express her real personality.  and
besides,  i found myself very attracted to the way the denim followed
the  curves  of  her thighs and hips.  i tried not to look like i was
staring at the subtle shifting  of her obviously unrestrained breasts
underneath  the windcheater as she  regarded the room,  taking in the
`Eraserhead'  and  Skinny  Puppy  posters,  the uneven stacks of CDs,
videotapes and floppy disks,  my personal computer  which took up all
of the wide desk.   I presented her with a chair, inviting her to sit
in front of the PC, gesturing with exaggerated servility.  she smiled
sweetly, accepting the glass of moselle that i offered.
  i  had  prepared  a `slideshow' of GIFs that started out with soft-
core  `cheesecake'  and progressed steadily into the areas that she'd
hinted at earlier.  in lieu of a second chair, i kneeled down next to
her, and started the show.  i was somewhat surprised when she took my
hand,  holding  it  between hers as the images marched past, and even
more  surprised  when,  as the first of what i called the `really raw
images' appeared,  she pressed my hand between her thighs.  i glanced
at her;  she  was  completely entranced with the image on the screen,
and  probably  wasn't even aware that she was rubbing her crotch with
my  hand.   i wasn't going to point this out - in case she decided to
stop!
  i  watched  her intently, noting her interest betrayed by tell-tale
flickers of her eyes as the GIFs became less `vanilla'.   i could see
a  tiny  reflection  of  the screen in her eyes, just large enough to
show  sufficient  detail  to  determine which GIF she was looking at.
eventually,  she got to what i considered to be the most explicit GIF
in  the  collection;  a  naked  young girl with long bronze-red hair,
kneeling  underneath  a  huge  black stallion, grasping its monstrous
erection and kissing the end.  she gave a start when it flashed up on
the screen,  and  suddenly  realised  that  my hand was firmly wedged
between  her  thighs  and  under  the seat.  for a moment, she didn't
move,  as  if  trying  to think of a polite way of backing out of the
situation.   Almost  as if in a dream, i found myself reaching around
her  waist  with  my  other  arm, hugging her to me, pressing my face
against her side,  moving up to press my lips against the soft warmth
of her breast.   Keeping one hand over mine, squeezing it between her
thighs,  she  stroked  my  face with the other, running it through my
hair,  down  my  neck,  slipping  it under the collar of my shirt and
massaging  my  shoulder.  i felt her heartbeat, heard her sigh as she
drew  a  deep  breath,  feeling  her ribs expand, gently pushing back
against my face.   i moved my other hand underneath the waist-band of
her windcheater,  stroking  her side, cupping her breast and trapping
the  nipple  with  my  index and middle fingers.  at the same time, i
slowly  ran  the  thumb  of  my  other  hand  along  the  rough denim
jeans-seam  that  was  drawn up between her buttocks.  she shuddered,
drawing another deep breath.
  i slowly levered the reclining chair back, bringing her face almost
level  with  mine.   my  lips  moved up over her breast, nuzzling her
collarbone,  delicately teasing her pulsing throat with the tip of my
tongue.   she sighed faintly in time with the rhythmic motions of our
hands  between  her  legs (which were becoming slower as she lost the
will  to  resist  clamping her thighs together), her sighs muted to a
soft  humming  as  our  lips met.  playfully, i dug the knuckle of my
thumb  into her; she gave a start, her breath tickling my cheek.  she
drew her legs up,  turning on her side to face me,  putting her other
arm  around  my  neck;  the  reclining chair wobbled unsteadily for a
moment,   her  eyes  widened   as  she  felt  her  sense  of  balance
disappearing,  and  the chair toppled over on its side,  spilling her
over on top of me.
  for  a  moment,  she  kneeled  astride  me,  too  surprised  to say
anything.   Then we both  began laughing, which gradually degenerated
into  muffled  snickers  as  we  kissed again.  She lay on top of me,
holding  my  arms  outstretched flat against the floor, slowly moving
her  lips  against  mine.   her warm, wet mouth occasionally twitched
into a smile as her laughter threatened to erupt again.  i managed to
slide  my  arms  down  to my sides, break free of her hold and run my
hands underneath her windcheater and along her back, hugging her soft
body  to mine.   She made the most sensuous sound i have ever heard -
somewhere  between  a  moan  and  a squeal - and brought her knee up,
pressing it against my crotch.   My hands wandered over the exquisite
texture  of  thin  denim  stretched over her thighs, the folds in the
material  where it rippled along her hip, the insistent resilience of
her  rear.   We  were pressed tightly together, hardly moving at all;
her  fingers slowly entwined themselves in my hair; i undid the brass
stud at the front of her jeans, then traced her spine along her lower
back,  down  underneath  her  behind and nestled three fingers in the
damp warmth there.   My  erection pressed against the smooth cylinder
of her thigh, through two layers of denim.  she pressed back, my lips
sensing her smile as she noted the immediate reaction.   In return, i
slowly pressed my middle finger  past the lips of her vagina, causing
her to arch her back,  angling her slit so that i could slip all four
fingers  into her and pressing  her breasts against my chest.   While
she held my head still with one hand, clutching a handful of my hair,
her other  hand  fiddled  with the stud on my jeans, flipping it free
and  then drawing the zipper down.  She then thrust her hand down the
front  of  my  underpants,  grabbing  my erection and my aching balls
together, slowly squeezing.
  at  this point,  we decided that it would be a good time to get the
rest of our clothes off and move to the bed.

nikolai
august 1991

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