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Under the Boss's desk(2)

By:Lena Malick



I reached over and quietly unlatched Calvin’s tray table, lowering it. It leveled out just above his erection, covering it from view. I slipped out of my seat and walked up the isle to the bathroom.

Two stewardesses were just outside the bathroom, talking quietly. It was that mid point of the flight were they had little to do. One nodded and smiled to me as I went into the bathroom. Inside, I could still hear them talking. I latched the door. I pulled my panties down, stepping out of them. I put a heeled foot on the toilet seat and pulled my skirt up. I knew I had to be quick about it. I slide a finger in my pussy, and used my other hand to rub my clit. I was soaked. “Atlanta’s even worse than LaGuardia, if you’re in a hurry,” I heard one of the stewardess say as I slipped another finger in my pussy. The bathroom was so small I could push my shoulders against the wall and still press my crotch forward so the back of my hand pressed against the sink, giving me leverage. The more I pushed, the deeper my fingers penetrated. My other hand was working circles on my clit. “But they’re so much friendlier there, I guess because it’s the south,” the other stewardess said. I was pressed so hard against the wall that I was able to lift my other leg off the floor so my knee was leveraged against the sink.

I looked at my self in the mirror. I had a desperate look on my face, like I was in pain. It was painful-wanting the same man for years, while spending hours every day working right beside him. As I looked at myself, I could see all that built up sexual frustration on my face-the ache of unfulfilled desire. I watched my hand jamming fingers in my pussy. I was so wet my hand was making sucking sounds as I worked my fingers. The plane jolted, rocked by some turbulence. I was close to orgasm. I imagined sucking Calvin, his dick warm and hard in my mouth. The plane settled down. I imagined him bending me over, fucking me, grunting as he grabbed my ass and thrust into me. I was closer. I could feel the orgasm building. Close. The plane rocked again, this time really shaking. The return to seat light went on with a ding-ding-ding. “Shit, time to strap in,” I heard one of the stewardesses say from the other side of the door. My head went back, hitting the wall as the orgasm rocked me. I shook and convulsed, my knee sliding up and banging the mirror. We are experiencing some turbulence, and we ask that you… the announcement came over the PA system, covering the sound I was making as the orgasm tore through me.

I sulked up the isle to my seat, trying to pat down my hair. Either the turbulence or the announcement had woken Calvin. He was groggily coming to life. I slipped into my seat as his knee bumped the tray table. He looked at it like he didn’t quite know what it was. I slid it up, glancing down as I did. His erection was gone. “Good nap?” I asked him. “Yeah… I guess I dozed off there. How about you, did you get a nap in?”

“Oh, yeah. I slept. I’ve been sleeping.”

“Really? I thought you couldn’t sleep on planes.”

“Right,” I said, blushing. “Not usually. But I was really… tired, I guess.” I avoided looking at him, feeling his eyes on me. My face was red. I felt like he could smell my sexual need for him.



Two days later, we still hadn’t heard about the contract. The tension in the office was palpable, as if we were all waiting for the building to explode. The firm had about forty employees, and this contract would mean job security and raises for everyone. Or downsizing, if it went the other way.

Calvin and I didn’t stop working, going right from the airport to the office. We worked the day we got back until nearly midnight, then were back in the office at eight the next morning. The stress on Calvin was unbearable. He was so tense he walked stiffly and sat rigid in his chair, forgetting to blink.

At the end of the second day, after almost everyone had gone home, he called me into his office. “Go home, Janet. You’ve been here twelve hours. Enough.” He let out a big, resigned sigh. “I don’t want to miss the call, if it comes,” I said.

He rubbed his eyes and looked up at me. He was so tired. I wanted to crawl over the desk and take him in my arms. As much as I disliked the woman he had been engaged to, Gabrielle, he was a more relaxed person when he was with her. It was three months since she’d broken off their engagement. At the time, he was so destroyed he hardly spoke for a week. The stress of that, combined with the pending contract, seemed to age him in just the last few months. I imagined sitting on his lap, holding is head in my hands and kissing his “If they call, you’ll be the first to know,” he said. “You have a life. It’s time you started going home at a reasonable hour. You’ve been great, going well beyond the call of duty, but I’ve been taking advantage of that. It’s not fair. Go home.” Please, oh please take advantage of me, I thought. I took this as a sign that he didn’t think we’d get the contract. There’d been no talk of going home at a reasonable hour before. “Sure,” I said, looking at his sad eyes, fighting hard to keep my impulses contained. “You’ll let me know if they call?”

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