Keep on Task

You slowly pull your hand away. "We should probably work," you say, a bit more despondently than you had intended. Emily laughs.

"Don't worry, John. I'm sure there will be plenty of time for play. The magazine office is this way," she says, turning brusquley and walking. You stay a step behind to watch her ass bounce as she walks. She slows slightly and adds a bit of a twist to her hips, seductively leading you through the downtown. Your mind falls back to the previous night and this morning, and you fight the smile as Emily's taut rear draws you. You idly catch up and casually grab her left cheek again. Emily grunts, but continues walking. You walk with her, palming her ass, and Emily gives you a few sideways glances. The first one seems a bit shocked, but there are some teasing smiles thrown in. Regardless of her facial expressions, Emily makes no move to remove your hand.

"I'm going to get you for that," she promises. You pull your hand from her rear and she gives you a quick pout before puling the door open and stpepping inside. The reception area is compact, and your eyes are drawn to the desk immediately inside the door. Two chairs, mildly comfortable looking, sit opposite the older-looking desk, behind which a woman you guess to be in her early forties is sitting. She wears a professional looking blouse, buttoned to the top. You can't help but notice how well she fills out the top, and you check yourself before she catches you staring. Her eyes are a striking blue, and she has her hair cut to frame her face with hair that reaches just above the shoulder. Her name badge reads "Claire." Her face isn't striking, but is round, with average features that don't stand out. Which is why you find yourself looking into her eyes.

"Hello, Miss," Emily begins, stepping slightly in front of you. "I was wondering if the editor was in. We're from another magazine, and were hoping to compare notes on the local scene here." Claire gives Emily the once over, but shrugs. "Whom may I tell Mr. Wetherton is calling?" Claire asks. You give her your names and sit down in the mildly comfortable chairs.

You glance at Claire, whose eyes never leave the computer while you and Emily make yourself comfortable. Emily leans back after a moment, and slowly, but surely unbuttons the top button of her blouse, making a show of fanning herself. You find yourself agreeing with the sentiment as you feel yourself warm up. Emily notices your stare and slyly opens the middle button of her blouse again, though only one of them. Emily keeps her eye on Claire the whole time, skilfully pulling the left side of her shirt open so you can see her bra once more. You take in the smooth fabric of the undergarment in before glancing back at her face. Emily smiles and pulls out her phone and begins tapping on it gently. Soon your own phone buzzes.

You pull it out and quickly find the text Emily just sent you. "I wish I'd taken a topless selfie for you to jerk over," it reads. You glance at her, and she's still idly playing with the button on her shirt. Her other hand taps out a quick message. "Or at least not worn a bra. I love the way you look at my young, supple breasts." You shift in your seat and almost miss an older gentleman, probably in his fifties, wearing a nice suit and tie walk in. You suddenly feel very underdressed. He's tall, nearly or right at six feet, and has broad shoulders. He's wearing some glasses, but rather than make him look old or like a nerd, they only seem to heighten the dignity of his appearance. Even you have to acknowledge that he's good looking. He looks slender under the suit, and his face is square with a strong jaw.

"Can I help you?" he asks, glancing at you before settling on Emily. Emily grins up at him, standing and offering her hand. He shakes it, looking directly at her as he does, and you find yourself getting a bit jealous.

"We're with the Weekly Culture," she begins, and she stops when he grins. "You've heard of us?" she asks, surprised. You're surprised too.

"Yes. I make several trips into the city a month, and your magazine has given me several good places to eat and some good live music to catch. It's really nice to meet you. My name is Charles McGowan, editor of The Daily. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Actually yes," she says. Charles smiles, and you're beginning to get the sense that he's actually a really nice guy. Bastard.