Conversation

You manage to get your emotions somewhat under control in the washroom and after wiping the come off your thighs, you get to work repairing your makeup. Your mind is overcome with the events of the morning, both excited and a little frightened by what has happened. As you're looking in the mirror the door opens and another young woman comes in.

"You must be the temp that's filling in for John Chandler. I'm Amanda," she says, looking at you in the mirror. She's a petite brunette, not as busty as you but curvy and well proportioned. You nod a hello as work on your mascara. "Lisa," you say.

"Looks like he already had a piece of you," she says with a salacious grin. "That didn't take him long, but then, you do look like you're pretty easy." You put your make up down and glare at her.

"What did you just say?" You ask in your toughest voice, but you hear the quaver in it. You just hope she doesn't.

"Whoa. Chill honey," she says with a grin. "We've all been there. Rich, powerful, sexy man. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. He's a great fuck, but don't get any long term ideas. You're a temp, here for a few days, and he pretty much has his pick of the secretaries."

"I suppose you're top of his list," you say with a touch of scorn.

"Well I ain't the bottom, let's put it that way. Unless he wants me on the bottom," she adds with a smirk. "I've got my plans for Mr. John Chandler, and he ain't seen nothing yet." She strokes her hands down her svelte body and smiles at you with an arch expression on her face. "He may have fucked you, sweetie, but he's done every hole in me, and paddled my sweet ass, and made me crawl on the floor. He may have thought he was in charge, but I know exactly where I've got him, and that's eating out of my hand. So don't get any ideas, temp. Understand?" She doesn't wait for your answer, but turns on her heel and leaves the room.

You stare after her, anger welling in you to go along with the blend of other emotions. You turn back to the mirror, working on your makeup and thinking.

Reaching a decision, you wipe off your lipstick and rummage in your purse for a different colour. Carefully, you turn your soft pouting lips a deep shade of red, smacking your lips and smiling at the result.

You're about to leave and report back to Mr. Chandler when you think of something else. Reaching under yours skirt you wriggle out of your panties and crumple them in your hand, feeling them damp with your juices and his come. Smiling again at your reflection, you open the door.