Miriam from PR

The office milf Miriam Jenkins who runs the public relations branch of the company with a pool of secretaries. She herself was smartly dressed standing in some healthy four inch heeled pumps and a tight knee length skirt with a thin floral print blouse that stretched over her prodigious mammaries, straining every devoted little button. In her hand she clutched a precious cup of coffee, likely having picked it up at a local java shop on her way to work before sharing this fateful elevator ride with you.

As the doors closed and you were presented with the featureless reflective metal before you the car begins to rise and you begin to direct your thoughts towards the exotic Milf beside you. Her curves wobbled slightly as the elevator took off, but the woman was in good health despite having some bounce in her step. In fact you were under the impression that her jiggling curves actually added to her appeal, but whether that was true or a sexual rationalization because as a coworker of a higher position she had always been off limits and his fanaticism towards the unattainable had exaggerated the woman's attractiveness beyond would be true if he didn't allow his hormonal drives rule his body.

Striking up a conversation with her was an ideal start, so you went for the boring route of starting a work related conversation. "So how's accounting been?" You could scold yourself for the lame start. But she seemed unperturbed, surely used to guys more socially adept than you, grubbing for her attention. She quirked her head to the side, giving herself a natural tilt before she smiled and courtly replied at first, but her frustration soon carried her away.

"It has been good, busy since the company party fiasco. Mr Sorenson has been breathing down our necks to set things straight, the community is still broadcasting snide remarks about the company because of it. But someone has to keep the public happy right Mr. Doe?" Her Clearly strained voice was soft as rose petals themselves had filled the space with welcoming tones of femininity, painfully reminding your libido of the fact that you were a man and a woman alone in a small metal box.

As she indulged in her little frustrated rant, trusting in the bond of solidarity that the two of you share as fellow elevator riders, and her confession had allowed your mind to wander. Watching her body jiggle with every expressive animated movement she made the more frustrated she became. Making the inner pervert in you want her to start keeping you happy instead, but perhaps you should try to keep up the charade and get to know the real Miriam first. You may never have the chance to have a heart to heart with her again.