Ramya: Tanner at the bar

Today I woke up and decided a skater skirt is appropriate attire for a senior manager on casual Friday. I paired it with boots and tower over most men in the office. It's made of thick material and falls almost to my knees, so the problem isn't that I'm showing too much skin. My big tits are about to pop one of the buttons on my tasteful top, but there's no cleavage, so that's not the issue. Although my nipples poke enough to show through the fabric when I'm horny, that's a constant battle for me any day. No, the problem is that I'm not wearing any panties.

First it was the cool gusts of wind in the parking lot wafting up the skirt and tickling my freshly shaved pussy, and now it's the stale air circulating with the heating system that triggers me. I have a very important meeting in ten minutes, and all I can think about is sex. I hate when the CEO asks us to make important decisions on a Friday afternoon that could wait for Monday.

I have unreliable privacy under my desk in my office. The door is open, so anyone could walk by. I slide up the skirt, reach under the thick fabric, and press the heaviest Ben Wa ball in the set against my lips. I wiggle it, relax, and push it into my cunt, my strong muscles greedily closing behind it to hold it in.

It's two hundred feet to the main conference room. Every step is suspect. I know I'm strong enough to hold it in, but the stakes are higher at work. I'm flanked by my boss who is the aging CIO and the Chief Marketing Officer. If it slips out, I'm done. No panties to stop it.

It's my own little slutty secret, and it's incredibly hot. I look down and see my nipples poking through to betray me. That means more men will be staring. It means my pussy is getting wet, which makes it harder to hold it in. I fold my arms over my chest as I enter and just barely make it to my seat.

It's a great meeting, and I assert myself and speak up when the time is right. I'm twenty-four and a half. In the last quarterly review someone used the words “CIO track” in the same sentence as my name. It is early, but not impossible. In other versions of my life I might already be there. Ramya comes before Aria, but the time spent running a second business matters.

I'm old to be single and Indian, and young to be where I am on the corporate ladder.

After the meeting, Aria's first ever cancelation comes in. I sensed this guy was probably going to bail. I keep ten percent of my fee deposit and refund the rest. I feel bad and message him I'll apply the part I kept to his deposit if he decides later he has the courage. I list the property on two short-term rental websites, and within three hours I have a booking. Now I'm super horny and have a free weekend with no clients.

After it's been in a few hours, I slip the ball out of my pussy. I'm ridiculously tight now. The perineometer is registering off the bell curve both at rest and when I squeeze.

The client pitch is with the CIO and the CEO. I'm not invited to those yet. But they are pitching some of my ideas, and they go over very well. They close the deal, and all senior management is invited to drinks after work.

The bar is nearby and often busy on Friday evenings with people still wearing work badges. I'm on my second beer when I see him looking at me. Tanner is smiling from across the bar. He's at a high-top near the back with two other men. Same solid build and handsome, confident expression. When our eyes meet he goes still for a second, then lifts his chin in a small acknowledgment.

I'm relieved he doesn't approach me near my coworkers. He's smart like that. I use the time to untangle the confusion. He remembers me, but does he know I know Claire? Does he know I popped her cherry with a dildo and made love to her over and over? Yes, he must know it all. Then my face turns red and hair stands up on my arms. Demarcus is the reason he and Claire broke up. They are friends. Which means...

Tanner knows Demarcus fucked me.

Shit.

I wait until my group is on their third drinks and deep in conversation about implementation timelines, then excuse myself and make eye contact. He notices and separates from his crew. We meet at the bar and sit. We pretend to watch the TV for a few seconds.

“Ramya.”

“Tanner.”

His gaze drops, just for a fraction, to the neckline of my blouse, then lower, then back up. He huffs a quiet, self-mocking breath. “I should have broken you in when I had the chance.”

I grin. “The tip was in. All you had to do was push.”

He closes his eyes for a second. "Heard it was fun."

"Hurt like hell. He has a really big dick. But you already knew that."

Tanner almost spits up his drink. Then laughs and says, "You loved it."

I grin. "I sure did. It was worth the wait."

We let the silence sit for a moment. Then I tilt my head and look in his eyes. “You and Claire belong together. You know that, right?”

He looks away, jaw tight. "She walked away too."

"You hit her with some heavy stuff. She just needs time, then she'll get there. And I know you liked sharing her with him. You let it go long enough for her to get stretched out. You're kinky as hell, so that's on you."

His eyes come back to mine. There is heat in them, and honesty. “I like her like that anyway.”

“I'm not surprised.” I slide out of the barstool. “You're a good man. She's my best friend and will be a wonderful wife for you one day. Call her. Fix this.”

I don’t wait for an answer. I turn and walk back to my team.