Office Girl Allison

© William D’Ark 2022

Palms upraised and open
I stand before you, Sir.
Although my palms look empty
A gathered wetness glistens there.

I daily bring girls’ manna to thee
Your every command a gift to me.
Desire shines bright within my eyes
Cast in quiet cries and sighs.

You call me to your side each day
Clothed yet naked, on display.
I kneel with legs spread wide
Certain that I will not stray.

We play at timeless scenes
Pleasure fueled by enticing chores.
A fire burns chasm-deep within
Fueling my hidden howling soul.

Palms upraised and open
I bend to you my Sir.
Although my palms look empty
I am reminded that I must serve.

Four o’clock in the afternoon was not our usual quitting time, even for a Friday. But that particular Friday was the beginning of the long December break. Allison and I found ourselves leaving the office early, carpooling to the department party scheduled for the Stanford Park Inn in Menlo Park.

We had given ourselves an hour to get there. That was plenty of time unless traffic along the El Camino was heavy. Turned out people were moving quickly. We drove east from Hillcrest then took Page Mill Road into Palo Alto.

We were stopped at the traffic light, looking to make a left turn onto El Camino when I asked Allison to show for me. It was her first time as a contract D her meridians, orgone, biofield, however you want to say it. Distinctly different from a man’s.

But until society is down with the idea of women’s nipples being a straightforward stepping stone to expansive, orgasmic experience, day and night, whether at home or commuting to the office, even we vocal alternative lifestyle types will have to suck it up and practice patience. Progress is being made. We hear that more women are braless at work, challenging out of date acceptance codes. This is excellent news, allowing subtle sexuality to infuse the last bastion of conservative, puritanical attitudes – that boring, routine workplace. We see topless women more often at open-air events. Not just the Folsom Street Fair, Sturgis, or the Pride Parades, mind you, but at seasonal bacchanals like Ren Fairs, urban street fairs, arenas, concerts and parklands all across Western society!

But I digress.

We were talking about Susan’s pussy on display the night of the Redwood City munch. Let’s go back there.

The night was just getting started. Who knew where it might lead? Remember, we were seated in the back, several of us, positioned around a low ebony table. Susan was a center of attention for a half dozen or so admirers standing there chatting, waiting for another kuşadası escort bayan generous upskirt journey or enjoying those barely hidden breasts. True, other beautiful, sensual women were nearby. But whether it was the way Susan had learned to dress or just her own smiling, oozy-wet chemistry, she was the one people wanted to connect with. Time after time. Single guys certainly, but couples too. They knew her reputation. They could have her. A few of them already had. They only needed to ask – ask her – then for her to ask me, her Sir at the time. And I nearly always said yes unless her safety was an issue. So who knew where the evening might lead?

But that night in between glugs of wine and laughter something unexpected occurred.

Another hem approached me, this time from the side. This was shorter than Susan’s; it went way above the knees. My chair was a low riser, as I’ve already described. And I had been leaning back against the pillowed contours talking with friends. Point being, when the hem approached me it was almost at eye level. After it had fully arrived, silently calling my name, I couldn’t help but notice the barely covered parted thighs that came with it. My eyes went to the dress’ border where some kind of Scandinavian-looking design was highlighted. I thought it was a sideways splatter of runes at first. It registered in my mind as odd but, really, my eyes didn’t linger there for long. The grey shadows beneath that way up, thigh high dress were taunting me. Thighs I couldn’t name were disappearing into a late afternoon gloom like slender tree trunks whose boughs had gotten lost in clouds.

I almost reached out to stroke them, those thighs. To follow their lead. To slide fingers as far into that shadowy realm as Fate would allow. But I gathered my wits and looked up at their owner instead. Wondering who all that satiny skin belonged to.

It was Allison peering down at me. An office mate. A co-worker. An associate. Medium height, medium weight, inviting figure, shoulder length brown hair, late twenties.

She said ‘Hello William.’

Yikes! Was my cover about to be blown? Was my professional, vanilla self about to dissolve into a soupy mess of office politics and innuendo? I suddenly wanted to spank that itchy wayward hand and send it away.

Then I noticed that Allison had her hands inside deftly hidden pockets of that cotton Scandinavian dress. A slight smile graced her face. And wait, was that a twinkle I spied in her eyes?

No warning given, the hands in her pockets flexed. They flounced the Scandinavian bordered hem in my direction. Shadows gave way to blessed davutlar escort ceiling lights. And there beneath the madness of that alluring gesture (and the scent of lilacs drifting out from the gloam) a picture of lily-white lace flashed full into view. The image of Allison’s lace panties, their middle seam scrunched between pulpy labia, attached itself to my brain as if I had been mind-branded.

I blinked. Probably three or four times before I thought to look up instead of sideways. To return her smile.

‘Allison,’ I softly spoke. ‘What a nice surprise.’

Two nice surprises, actually, but I didn’t want to over react. I mean, leave that to the newbie doms.

~ cough

I stood up and held out my hand. She took it gently and we shook. Gently. Lessee… three times up and down maybe. Gently, anyway.

My attitude had definitely softened. ‘I don’t know what to say except I’m happy to see you here. In Redwood City. Is this your first time?’

‘For this munch?’ she innocently asked. The hands were still in her pockets. She seemed shy; I wondered if I had misunderstood the gesture. ‘Yes it is. You know I live further down El Camino. Sunnyvale. My daughter and me. The two of us.’

I knew all of those facts, of course, after working together so long. That she lived in one of those endless winding apartment complexes in the Peninsula’s hot zone. That she was a single mom. And Allison knew that I knew. She felt like she needed to say the living alone single mom thing anyway. I liked that she had.

I’m available, she had just told me.

‘I’ve been to several South Bay munches,’ she added. ‘Tonight I thought it would be interesting to come to this one. To see what I’ve been missing. Shelby is with her grandma. Call it my one night out this week.’ She gestured widely across the room and I took the cue.

I slipped my free arm around her from the back and turned to the group gathered nearby. ‘People… I want to introduce a longtime friend and, well… a longtime friend. This is Allison. She’s a South Bay girl so… um, it’s her first time here. Let’s enjoy her company.’

Fresh meat! From out of nowhere! Fangs were bared and saliva ran. Jungle drums began…

No, I’m kidding.

People responded warmly and well, I’m happy to say. More hands were shaken, none as gently as mine I noticed. Allison smiled to all and chatted briefly with some. My hand was still at her waist, stroking the full length of her arched back from hip to shoulder. She didn’t seem to mind. A panty waistline presented itself to my touch. A bra interrupted her otherwise smooth cotton covered değirmendere escort back. But it was the three-quarter length zipper line that caused my power exchange instincts to kick back in. The hand I had mentally slapped into place now wanted to slide the zipper all the way down. Allowing power exchange lips to utter well-practiced words in her ear that would magically convince this woman to go remove all the offending underwear.

Good Christ, stop it William.

I crushed the nagging hand into a fist and pushed it into my pants’ pocket. I swallowed another glug.

And that reminded me… ‘Allison, can I get you a glass of wine? My treat?’

Suddenly I felt Susan’s gaze at my neck. Like the tip of a hot blade. No telling how long it had been there threatening my very life.

I ignored it for the moment.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Allison bashfully replied. But she seemed to be scrutinous too. Had she been reading my mind somehow? ‘Are there snacks too?’ she asked. ‘A cold chardonnay and something to eat would be perfect.’

I stood up straight and proper. ‘Let me see what I can do.’

THEN… and only then… did I allow myself a downwards glance at the seated Susan.

‘Time for a refill?’ I calmly asked, reaching for her empty glass.

Susan pulled at the border of her own very high-up short muslin dress.

Omg is she going to open her knees? All the way?

In my peripheral vision bystanders seemed to crowd closer around.

‘Yes, please,’ she replied. The knees did not part. She lifted her empty glass instead. ‘Whatever you’d like to bring me, Sir.’

There was no emphasis on the spoken sir… That was a good thing. Susan’s submissive persona was keeping the jealous vanilla Susan in check. We might avoid a subbie wrestlefest after all. Not that I was feeling especially overcome by Allison’s appearance, but given that I was the woman’s senior at work and that she had done that very submissive I’ll-show-you-my-panties thing… within just a minute of our unexpected meeting… Sure, I would buy the wine.

I was already thinking about how to charge in all to a future expense account.

I asked friend Steve to step in with Allison while I trekked to the bar.

Something always true of these munches… there is a kind of invisible barrier separating our group from the rest of the establishment. Doesn’t matter where they are held, walking away from an alternative lifestyle cluster always feels like stepping out of The Matrix through one of those wobbly full length mirrors. It’s the vibe we give off, I am sure. The barely-dressed women like Susan. The occasional dominatrix wearing studded leather. A collar here, a rope-bra beneath white satin there. And the guys are almost always mis-dressed so badly it draws unnecessary attention. They either opt for out-of-date memed tees over faded black denim, or get way too weird with outfits sporting peculiar pins or kerchiefs topped by poorly styled hats.