The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Business and Pleasure

Part 6

Not for those under 18 (or whatever the legal age for this sort of stuff is in your area). If you’re not that old, Boo! Go away now. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, especially non-consensual ones, then don’t read this. All characters and situations are fictional.

Copyright © 2012

Archived on the Erotic Mind Control web site by permission of the author. This story may be downloaded for personal archiving as long as this notice is retained.

Anne sat her desk, her mind going over the events in Simon’s office. His cock had been inside her pussy. She was sure of that. She could remember it. She could still feel the sensations, …, down there. But she was just as sure that they hadn’t had sex. They were two professionals. In a professional relationship. That meant that they couldn’t have sex. And Anne was sure that she wouldn’t betray Liam like that. So that meant that whatever they’d done it hadn’t been sex. Anne forced herself to pay attention to her computer screen. Simon had given her his time to help her relax. The least she could do was be diligent at her work.

She brought up the next file she had to look through. There seemed to be no end of them, some on her computer, some on paper. Anne was used to large amounts of documents. It was the normal state for any legal case. And one this complicated was bound to produce more than even the usual amount. Patents, minutes, letters, emails. Some of them handwritten, or handwriting scrawled in the margins. Occasionally Anne wished that she lived in an age when everyone had neat handwriting. If there ever was such a time. Maybe in the age of those books Simon and Charlotte both liked, well the later ones anyway, Dickens and all that. When lawyers had names like Screwshanks and Scrimp. Would she be a Scrimp? Anne Screwshanks, perhaps? Of course, women weren’t allowed to be lawyers back then, so she was better off now, no matter how hard it was to read the nearly illegible scanned version of someone’s bad handwriting.

She shook her head, angry with herself for letting her attention drift. The amount of the material connected with the case sometimes daunted her. Printed out, she thought that it would probably fill a good sized lorry. Ok, she admitted, that might be an exaggeration. Maybe. But it was how she felt at the moment. It didn’t matter how much there was. Owen had told her to keep at it. She had to keep looking, in case she could find something to change the board’s mind. She went through file after file, making notes about whether she thought it could help them or not. Which parts she needed to talk to Simon or Charlotte about. Still a small part of her mind lingered on what she and Simon had done. Anne felt her irritation with herself growing. She needed to concentrate.

She didn’t really have any excuse. Even if her body thought that what she and Simon had been doing was something sort of like sex, but not sex, it wasn’t as if she’d come straight back to her office. There had been time for her body to get over it. First there had been files that they’d had to go through together. And Anne was sure that she could remember Simon giving her something to drink. She had a memory, strangely fuzzy as it had only happened a few minutes ago, of him telling her how useful their relaxation activities were, how professional she was. And other things. Was there something about Chloe? And Charlotte? Funny that she couldn’t remember the words, but she was sure that he hadn’t said anything about what they had done being sex. Anne shrugged. Something told her that it wasn’t important whether she remembered exactly what Simon had said.

She took a deep breath, and forced herself to concentrate on her work.

A couple of hours later, almost lunch time, and the sun was starting to come through her window. Anne liked the afternoon sun. There was enough tint in her windows to stop any glare, but not too much to stop the warmth coming in. Not for the first time she silently thanked Simon for getting her an office with a window. Rooms with no outside light were one of her pet hates.

Anne was pleased with the progress she’d made. After getting over her silly worries about the morning’s relaxation exercises with Simon she’d been able to work through more material than she’d thought she would. A little rumble in her stomach reminded her that she’d have to stop for lunch soon. Anne wondered if she should give Charlotte a ring, perhaps her friend would like to have lunch with her.

Her musings were interrupted by a knock on her door.

“Come in.” she said, curiosity playing across her features. She didn’t get many visitors.

The opening door revealed Chloe. Of course, Anne told herself, she should have been expecting Chloe. Hesitantly the other woman entered the office and shut the door.

“I, umm, I think I’ve found the file you wanted.” There was an innocent hopefulness in Chloe’s features. Anne could still see the difference in years between them, but Anne thought the other woman now looked more like someone in her early 30’s. Like yesterday her skirt was shorter and her heels higher than what Anne was used to seeing her wearing. But it still looked professional. Chloe’s blouse and skirt suited her figure. It looked stylish. And new.

“Oh, thank you Chloe.” Anne could feel the eagerness tinging her voice. If she was right, and lucky, then this might be what she needed to change the board’s mind.

Without being asked Chloe hurried over to Anne’s desk. She didn’t put the file down, instead clutching it to her chest. She was standing still. Anne could feel tension radiating out of her.

Anne held out her hand. “Umm, Chloe, could I have the file please?”

Anne’s words seemed to have an electric effect on Chloe. She almost scuttled around to Anne’s side of the desk. Then she bent slightly at the waist, leaning in, worry etched itself on her features. With one hand she offered the file to Anne, the other waved around; short, aimless, motions.

“Oh, I ,sorry, um, please, here, sorry.”

Anne took the file, cutting off other woman. She placed it on her desk. “Thank you Chloe,” she said, forcefully, worried that Chloe would apologise endlessly if she was allowed.

Chloe straightened up again and stood there, beside Anne. She made no sign of leaving.

“Ah, is there something else Chloe?” asked Anne, wondering what she wanted. Or did she have to dismiss the assistant, like a headmistress with a student?

“I, umm,” Chloe stuttered, “I was wondering if there was anything else I could do?” There was an eagerness in her voice. Anne could see what looked like hope flickering in her eyes.

“Er, no, not right now, thank you Chloe, I…” Anne’s voice trailed away at the effect her words had on Chloe. The other woman’s shoulders slumped and the hope Anne had seen seemed to ebb away. Chloe turned towards the door, almost shuffling.

Anne couldn’t let her go like that. She drew a deep breath. “Umm, Chloe, all right, but I’m not sure what you can do. Did you have something in mind?”

The other woman had swung around as Anne spoke, her features beaming. “Well, Dr Harrington, said that, I,…, I might …”

Anne let her confusion show. If Simon had something in mind then it was almost certainly a good idea, but she had no clue as to what it was. “Well, if he said so,” she said, uncertainly.

Chloe hurried back to Anne’s side of the desk, “Really?” she asked, her deep breaths obvious in the rise and fall of her chest.

Anne swung on her chair, until she faced Chloe. “Well, yes, but what exactly did he have in mind?”

Chloe said nothing, instead sinking quietly to her knees.

“Chloe?” Anne looked down at the top of the other woman’s head. What was going on?

Chloe still didn’t answer. Instead she reached out, her hand seeking Anne’s skirt where it lay against the outside of her thighs.

“Chloe?” Anne’s voice rose higher but somehow she couldn’t make herself stop what was happening.

Chloe pushed the skirt up Anne’s thighs. Anne couldn’t believe what was happening. This was hardly professional behaviour. Much as she didn’t want to admit it there was no way she could deny that what Chloe was doing was overtly sexual. You didn’t run your hands over someone’s legs like that to say hello. It was sensual, private. A soft, careful touch like that could mean little else. Anne looked down, the two women’s eyes briefly meeting. The flush in the Chloe’s cheeks was unmistakable. Anne quickly looked away and tried not to think about the matching flush rising in her own.

She could hear Chloe’s breath, short and shallow. Her hands ran gently up and down Anne’s thighs, over her stockings. The blonde lawyer couldn’t deny the effect Chloe’s touch was having on her. After some time, she didn’t know how long, she forced herself to look at the other woman again. She couldn’t see Chloe’s eyes. They were, Anne thought, fixed somewhere around where Anne’s legs met the rest of her body. Her mind wouldn’t go any further than that.

Chloe pushed Anne’s skirt further up her legs, her hands moving from the outside of the seated woman’s thighs to the inside. Chloe’s touch, stopping just below the tops of Anne’s stockings, was gentle but insistent. Anne could feel a leashed energy behind it, like a child with a new toy that might break at too forceful a touch. She could feel the heat rise in her as Chloe’s fingers made their way up and down the inside of her thighs. She knew that this was wrong. That this wasn’t proper office behaviour. No matter which way she looked at it. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to stop the other woman. She couldn’t even bring herself to say a word. It wasn’t only Chloe’s breathing that was shallow and urgent.

Why, a little voice asked in Anne’s head, why couldn’t she stop this? It felt good. Liam had never been this gentle. She could feel herself getting wet just from the play of Chloe’s fingers along her thighs. But that didn’t matter. She should stop this. Stop it before it went any further. So why wasn’t she? Why wasn’t she stopping it? Why was she using her arms, resting on the arms of her chair, to raise herself up and let Chloe push her skirt up around her waist?

Anne settled back in her chair, as Chloe’s fingers moved ever higher up her legs. Anne felt a catch in her throat as Chloe’s fingers touched her flesh directly, exploring her thighs above her stockings. The feeling of Chloe’s hands gently playing on her upper thighs almost drove conscious thought from Anne’s head. As Chloe’s touch reached the edge of Anne’s underwear Anne threw her head back, her breathing deeper now. She could feel her breasts rising and falling with each breath, feel her nipples beginning to push into her bra.

Chloe’s hands roamed around the top of her legs, up to the edge of her panties. Anne couldn’t decide if the other woman was hesitant or teasing her. Whatever the intent the effect was unmistakable. It was turning her on. She could feel her blood racing, the flush in her face rising higher with it, as she realised that Chloe must be able to see how wet she was, there was no way that it couldn’t be showing through her panties. Anne’s eyes widened as she heard one slight sound, then another, as Chloe undid Anne’s suspenders. She wanted this to stop. She had to make it stop.

She did nothing to make it stop.

Chloe’s fingers, braver?, still teasing?, were playing over Anne’s panties now. The still gentle, urgent, touch moved ever closer to her pussy. Anne’s hands clenched around the arms of the chair. She knew that she should stop this. But the delicate touch of Chloe’s hands was like nothing she’d ever felt before. She had to stop it now before it was too late.

Anne made herself move her head. Looked down again at the top of Chloe’s. She had to make a decision, before it was too late. Her hands gripped the chair, so tight now it almost hurt.

Again she lifted herself off the chair.

Chloe reached up, gently pulled at her panties and slid them down her legs. One foot, and then another was lifted off the ground as Anne slipped back into her seat. Her head tilted back again she didn’t know what Chloe had done with her underwear. Decision made she let Chloe push her knees further apart.

Anne thought she heard a gentle “oh” from Chloe as her knees widened. But through the sound of her own breathing she wasn’t sure. She began to moan as she felt Chloe’s breath on her nether lips.

The moan became a cry as Chloe’s tongue played across them.

Anne didn’t know if Chloe had done this before. Liam had never been keen on giving her oral attention. And lately she hadn’t really given him the chance very often. She suspected that Chloe’s technique lacked sophistication. But she more than made up for it with enthusiasm. Anne tried to stifle a cry as Chloe’s tongue played along her pussy lips. She could feel her hips starting to move, small, quick, motions, in time with the action of Chloe’s tongue. Anne had never thought about a woman doing this to her before. Had never thought a woman could make her feel like this.

Chloe’s tongue, the strokes firmer now, began to slip inside Anne’s pussy. Could hardly fail to. Anne knew how wet she was. How welcoming, how eager, her pussy was. Whatever she might think she couldn’t deny that her body wanted whatever it was Chloe was doing to her.

Chloe’s tongue was deep inside her now, the long probing strokes alternating with the attention the kneeling woman was paying to Anne’s clit. Anne realised that she could hear someone crying out. Dimly she realised that it was her. Chloe pulled back, returning her attention to Anne’s pussy lips. At first Anne thought that Chloe might be giving up, having second thoughts. Then she realised that Chloe was teasing her, working her to the edge than pulling back. Her cries changed from “yes” to “please” then to “oh god” as Chloe’s tongue returned to her depths.

As Chloe’s tongue worked its way deeper than ever Anne came, the orgasm rocking through her. She could feel the vice like grip her hands had on the arms of her chair. The orgasm continued on, as Chloe’s tongue continued, not giving Anne any chance to recover. She felt that she was pinned to her chair, that Chloe’s tongue was like some great spear, fixing her in place. Her head thrown back, she stared at the bland, corporate ceiling of her office. Little marks and cracks leapt out at her, her senses running wild. Her cries had passed beyond words, descending into inarticulate grunts and moans. She could feel her eyes widen as another orgasm began to build.

Anne slumped in her chair, mute, after the second orgasm had taken her. Chloe rose before her. She half-stumbled, a hand going out to steady herself on Anne’s desk. Anne could see the lower part of Chloe’s face glistening. “Me, my, my,” she thought. Anne recognised what was on Chloe’s face but her mind wouldn’t form the words. She watched, silently, as Chloe licked her lips. The two women looked at each other, for how long Anne never knew, before Chloe turned away. The older woman walked uncertainly towards the doors. She seemed exhausted, her path erratic.

Chloe paused at the door. Even from across the room Anne could hear her laboured breathing. Chloe bent over slightly as she used both hands to steady herself against the door frame. Neither woman said a word. After a moment Chloe straightened and left, closing the door behind her without a backward glance.

Fingers shaking, suspenders undone, skirt still bunched around her waist, Anne reached for the file Chloe had found for her. She didn’t want to think about what had just happened. She didn’t know what had just happened. Had Chloe assaulted her? Hard to make it appear that way. Anne had not exactly protested at any point. Except when she thought that Chloe was stopping. That hardly made it assault. Anne realised that she had been a willing, even eager, participant, much as she couldn’t understand her own actions. Her mind turned it over and over again, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Chloe had come into her office, half-stripped her as she sat in her chair. Then buried her head between Anne’s thighs and made Anne scream as she came like a train, twice.

Anne realised that her own hand was between her thighs, fingers probing her still wet snatch. Hastily she pulled it away. She tried to steady herself, opened the file Chloe had brought her. The file that might still win them the case. Try as she might her mind wouldn’t focus. Its nervous circling around the events just passed making concentration impossible. Why hadn’t she stopped Chloe? Why hadn’t she said anything? Did she want Chloe to do that? Anne could barely read the documents that she held, the movement caused by her shaking hands blurring the words. She forced herself to lay the papers on her desk.

Was she a lesbian? Anne didn’t think so. Bi-sexual? She’d never been interested in women before. Even when some of her friends at university went through ‘that’ phase, had teased her about not joining them, she’d felt nothing. Did she want Chloe to do it again? She didn’t think she felt anything romantic for Chloe. What about if Chloe tried it again? The image of Chloe between her legs drove into Anne’s mind. She could feel herself flush in arousal at the thought. Shit. Shit, no. Panic threatened her. She pictured Liam instead. Oh that was good. Yes, that was good. She’d like Liam eating her out. Maybe that was all it was. Tongues didn’t have a gender. Being eaten out by someone who could make her come like that. That was a turn-on. Didn’t make her a lesbian, or even bi. Not really. She pictured Liam again, could feel the heat rising in her. All good there. Did Chloe do the same thing for her? No, she could honestly say it didn’t. She wanted to do all sorts of things to Liam. But not to Chloe. So it was just the idea of someone giving her a tonguing like that. Anybody could be happy at receiving that sort of attention. Didn’t matter from where. Didn’t make her a lesbian.

If she was bi then she’d want to return the favour to Chloe. And Anne had no interest in doing that. Nothing personal, but Chloe just didn’t do it for her. Now if she was bi then she would. Or with Charlotte. Charlotte was attractive, much prettier than Chloe. If she was bi, Anne, rationalised, then she’d be attracted to Charlotte. And, of course, she wasn’t. She wasn’t interested in having her friend’s pretty brunette head between her thighs. Feeling Charlotte’s tongue on her pussy. In her pussy. Or in returning the favour. If she was bi then the thought of Charlotte’s breasts would turn her on. The idea of kissing them, sucking on her friend’s nipples would make her hot. Burying her head between her friend’s thighs. Running her tongue over Charlotte’s pussy in long, slow strokes. Thrusting in, as deep as she could, again and again as her friend came over her face. Licking her lips like Chloe had before diving in again for more. Hearing Charlotte cry out as Anne drove her over the edge. Or feeling Charlotte’s tongue exploring her as she explored Charlotte, 69’ing with her friend. No, if she was bi those ideas would turn her on.

Like she was turned on now, with three fingers buried in her pussy and her breath coming in ragged gasps as she imagined her hips bucking on Charlotte’s tongue as she drove her own deeper and deeper into her friend.

Oh. Shit.

Again Anne pulled her hand away from her treacherous snatch. She gripped the edge of her desk. Whether to steady herself or simply to keep from masturbating she wasn’t sure. This wasn’t happening, she told herself. She wasn’t bi. It was just the after effects of what Chloe had done, Anne tried to persuade herself. She wasn’t really attracted to her friend. She was over-excited, that was all. She had to get control of herself. She had to, she reminded herself, get her clothes back in order.

Anne stood up, smoothing her skirt back down. Desperately she tried to fix the worst of the creases, where it had been bunched around her waist. No matter how much she fretted she knew that couldn’t fix all the damage. Giving up she looked around for her panties. They were on the floor, next to her chair. Chloe must have dropped them there.

Anne quickly picked them up, pulled them back on. Damp as they were having them back on still made her feel better. More protected from her traitorous fingers. Hastily she re-did her suspenders. Why had she just sat there while Chloe stripped her? A little part of her mind whispered that she hadn’t just sat there. She’d co-operated, made it easy for Chloe to undress her. Anne pushed the thought away.

Her clothes rearranged Anne brushed at her skirt again. She felt better now. In control again. Whatever Chloe had done Anne was sure that she wouldn’t let it happen again. She refused to think about Charlotte. She knew that the last flushes of arousal were still running through her body. Not the time to put her feelings to the test. That could wait. Later, when she was calm. Yes, that would be the time.

With a deep breath Anne sat at her desk. Now she could give her full attention to the file.

Thirty minutes later Anne smiled. She’d been right. Now all they had to do was check whether there was anything later in the files that overrode this one. She needed to talk to Owen. He was the only one that could put enough manpower on this to get it done in time. Quickly she dialled his number.

Anne frowned in frustration as the answering voice wasn’t Owen’s, but Paul, his assistant. Owen, he told her, was out and would be in meetings most of the rest of the day. He was friendly, as Paul always was, but Anne couldn’t help her frustration rising. She needed to get to Owen as soon as she could. If anyone on the other side realised this hole in their case they could plug it in a heartbeat.

Would she like to leave a message?, Paul was asking.

Anne didn’t want to leave any details. Much as she trusted Paul it wasn’t worth the risk. Could Owen please call her urgently? Any time, day or night. Anne tried to stay calm, but not too calm. She wanted Paul to realise how important this was.

Ruefully Anne looked at the phone after she had hung it up. There wasn’t much more she could do now. She could keep going with the rest of the work, but right now that didn’t look appealing. She realised how hungry she was.

Anne went to rise from her desk but then froze. She knew that she would have to walk past Chloe. Unless she was lucky, and the other woman was already at lunch. Anne sat there, torn. She didn’t want to face Chloe again. Not so soon, not after, after what had happened.

She summoned up her courage, angry at herself. Just yesterday she had thought that the Chloe problem had been solved. Now yet again she couldn’t bear to face Simon’s assistant.

“This is ridiculous,” Anne said out loud. Determinedly she grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Grabbing the handle, she stood there, forcing herself to be calm. She made herself open it. Then hurried past Chloe’s desk. She could see the other woman out of the corner of her eye. Neither said a word. Chloe seemed to be looking down but Anne was sure that the other woman glanced in her direction.

Anne abandoned her earlier idea of seeing if Charlotte wanted to share lunch. She wasn’t ready to face her friend either. She grabbed a seat in the corner of the building’s café and took as long as she could over her lunch.

Anne intended to return to her office as she had left it. As quickly as possible and ignoring Chloe as much as she could. She was half way across the area that held Chloe’s desk, eyes focussed on her door, thinking that she was going to make it, when she heard Chloe’s voice.

“Uh, Miss Robson, umm, excuse me.” Chloe’s voice was tentative, almost a whisper, yet it stopped Anne as if she’d walked into a brick wall. Why hadn’t she kept walking? Chloe’s voice was so quiet that she could have pretended that she hadn’t heard it. Could she ignore her now? The longer she waited, Anne knew, the worse her chances were of getting away without speaking to Chloe. Anne could feel herself moving her weight from foot to foot. Now she felt like the nervous schoolgirl. Or like a teenager with a crush confronted by its object. That was an image that she didn’t want. She pushed the thought aside and made herself turn towards Chloe.

To Anne’s surprise Chloe looked as nervous as she felt. Now the image in her mind was of two teenagers unable to deal with the crushes they had on each other. In her head Anne screamed at that part of her mind. Outwardly she forced a smile on her face.

Anne swallowed, willing her voice to be normal. “Y,yes Chloe?”

The other woman shifted uneasily in her seat. She kept half looking at Anne, then looking away. Anne was reminded of a child at Christmas, nervous about the presents under the tree, worried if she looked at them too long they would disappear. “Umm, Dr Harrington, wanted, um, wanted me to tell you.” Chloe’s voice died away.

Anne took a deep breath. Chloe’s nervousness seemed to be curing her own. If she could just hang on to that then everything might be all right. “Yes Chloe, what was it he wanted you to tell me?”

“He, uh, he said he’s sorry but he won’t have time to look at all the documents you left with him yesterday. He, uh, gave them to Miss Matthews. He asked if you could, uh, see her this afternoon.”

Anne’s eyes went wide. See Charlotte? This afternoon? She couldn’t. It was too soon. She still felt too on edge from the morning’s events. Too confused about her feelings, her desires. But Simon had asked her to. She couldn’t disappoint him. It wouldn’t be professional. She’d have to do it. No matter how difficult it was.

“Yes, uh, of course.”

“I’ve already arranged a meeting room for you, number 4,” Chloe paused, “two pm, is that all right?” Anne forced herself to look at Chloe, she could see the anxiety in the other woman’s eyes. Anne’s own emotions were in too much of a tumult to be able to decipher the feelings behind Chloe’s expression.

“Yes, that, that’ll be fine,” Anne managed to reply. Oh yes, she thought, of course that’ll be fine. Just the two of us, in a sound proof room, all alone for the afternoon. What could be wrong with that? Anne tried to think of where she could find a hole to crawl into. Nervously she looked at the clock. It was almost 2pm now. Why had she taken so long over lunch? It seemed such a good idea at the time, avoiding Chloe for a while. Now she had only a few minutes to prepare herself for a private meeting with Charlotte. An image of her friend popped into her head, looking so attractive in her office wear. Fearfully Anne tried to ignore it.

“And if there’s, uh anything else,” Anne could hear the slight emphasis Chloe placed on the ‘anything’, “please Miss, let me know.”

Anne stood there, dumbstruck. She forced herself to speak “I, uh, thank you, but, umm, not now, it’s almost two and I, umm better go now, or I’ll, uh, be late, you know, umm.” Anne swallowed, trying to force some moisture into her dry throat. She heard herself, stumbling on, “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow then. This will probably take all afternoon and I, uh, won’t be back. Umm, see you.” Anne rushed into her office, picked up what she needed to take notes in her meeting with Charlotte and left again as quickly as she could.

“Bye,” she said as she rushed past Chloe’s desk, “have a nice night.”

“Good bye, Miss,” she heard Chloe say, softly.

Anne could feel her heart racing as she headed towards her meeting with her friend. She tried to tell herself it was only how fast she was moving that made her feel like that. She didn’t think she sounded very convincing. Desperately she tried to tell herself that she was straight, that she wouldn’t feel anything when she saw her friend. That was all they were, she muttered to herself, friends. She turned away from the strange looks she drew from the other people in the lift.

The room Chloe had booked wasn’t the one Charlotte and Anne had used the other day. Anne silently thanked whatever Gods or saints looked after offices for that. It was going to be bad enough that the rooms were similar. Finding the room she hurried in. To her relief Charlotte wasn’t there yet. Anne took a seat opposite the door and tried to compose herself.

Trying to force her body to be still Anne told herself that she wasn’t bi, that she wasn’t interested in her friend like that. They were just friends, nothing more. She was confused from what had happened that morning, that was all, Charlotte had nothing to do with it. It was going to be all right, Anne told herself. She was going to be totally professional. There was nothing between them.

Anne heard a small noise. She looked up, telling herself, as she did, that nothing unusual was going to happen.

Like her heart jumping into her throat at the sight of Charlotte in the door way. Had her legs always been so tantalising? Looked so good in heels? Had her skirt always clung to the outline of her hips like that? Had its curve always looked so, so, right? So mouth-wateringly desirable?

Oh god.

“Hi,” said Charlotte.

“Hi,” replied Anne, surprised that she could speak at all. Her mind raced as her friend entered the room. She had to be professional. Never mind that her blood was pumping so loudly Charlotte could probably hear it.

“Um, sorry Simon had to dump this on you.” Anne continued, amazed at the even tone of her voice.

“Oh, no, it’s no problem. Like I said, it makes a change from my normal work.” Charlotte took a seat opposite Anne, sliding into it with an easy grace that almost stopped Anne breathing.

“Shall we get started?” The brunette asked.

“Sure,” said Anne.

As the meeting went on it took on a surreal edge to Anne. Outwardly she kept calm, or at least she thought that she was. She asked her questions of Charlotte, listened to the explanations her friend gave, made her notes. They even shared a joke or two. Anne couldn’t believe that she was managing it. Inwardly Anne felt that she was barely hanging on. Every time she looked at her friend she couldn’t help the image turning sexual. Her eyes drifted to Charlotte’s shoulder, and she wondered what it would be like to slip the blouse down and nuzzle into her skin. She made herself look her friend in the eyes but that didn’t help as she felt that she could simply drown there. Her gaze slipped, rested on Charlotte’s ear. All Anne could think of was slowly nibbling on it. She tried to look away, but down only led to the delicate sweep of Charlotte’s neck. Anne could feel her lips aching to kiss it. Back up and she was looking at Charlotte’s mouth, her full, red lips, glistening with lipstick. The ache in Anne’s lips became a need to kiss her friend that threatened to become overwhelming. Anne tore her eyes away, but they were caught by the sight of Charlotte’s hands. Anne’s mind was filled with the images of what those slim, pretty, fingers could do to her. Stroking, exploring, caressing. Anne could feel herself becoming wetter and wetter. And from Charlotte’s hands Anne’s eyes wandered to her friend’s arms. Arms that could wrap around her, hold her. Unwilling, fearfully, unable to stop herself, Anne found herself looking at her friend’s chest.

Had Charlotte’s blouse always looked like that? Had the curve of her breasts always seemed so perfect? Just the right size, the right shape. Anne couldn’t stop the images filling her mind. She imagined what her friend’s breasts would look like, blouse and bra dispensed with, gloriously naked, how her nipples would be, taught and erect with desire. Anne wanted to slowly undo every button, teasingly. At the same time she wanted to rip the blouse off her friend and smother her breasts with kisses.

Oh god, what was happening to her?

Even when she looked away there was no relief. She could still see her friend out of the corner of her eye. See her hair, beautiful, shining, flowing over her shoulders. She could imagine herself running her hands through it, just feeling it between her fingers for hours.

Somehow, in a way that Anne couldn’t understand, outwardly she was calm. The images, the emotions, kept flowing through her, but she kept herself from giving any sign. Well, maybe she swallowed nervously now and then. Maybe she shifted uneasily in her chair, her panties damp with her desire. But nothing her friend seemed to notice. Mostly it was a relief, that she was able to maintain control, keep up a professional demeanour. But part of Anne felt enraged, imprisoned, unable to give any relief to the need crashing through her. That part wanted to jump straight over the table at her friend.

She didn’t.

Somehow Anne kept control. She said goodbye to her friend after they finished going through the documents. Gave her a little wave. To her relief it was late and she could avoid going back to her office. She wouldn’t have to face Chloe again until tomorrow. Maybe by then she’d have this all sorted out. A good night’s sleep and maybe, just maybe, it would all go away.

But she couldn’t, just couldn’t, simply leave. The need in her was too urgent. A yearning, a need, that she couldn’t ignore. Half unwilling, half eagerly, Anne made for the ladies’ toilets. Hurriedly she looked herself in a stall. Fingers trembling she undid the buttons on her blouse. Her breasts ached for attention. Desperately she kneaded them through her bra, imagining it was Charlotte’s hands on them. Part of her wanted to stop, but the images in her head felt so good her feeble resistance was soon overwhelmed.

Anne realised that she was moaning in pleasure. She tried to stop herself, but couldn’t. Desperately she hoped that she was alone. She couldn’t hear anyone else, perhaps she was lucky. Her hands, stayed by her momentary worry, had left her breasts. Now, without any conscious thought on Anne’s part, they pulled her skirt up, undoing her stockings. Quickly she stepped out of her panties. Her need too urgent for her too even take the time to sit down she leant on her left arm, resting it on the wall of the stall. Her legs spread, her right hand dove in to her sopping wet pussy. She came almost immediately, images of Charlotte fixing themselves in her mind.

Anne slumped onto the toilet seat. Hands shaking she managed to undo her bra. Her left hand slipped in and started playing with her nipples. Her right hand was soon at work again on her pussy. Despite the orgasm of moments ago Anne still felt the need ripping through her. The need for Charlotte. To have Charlotte ravish her. To have her friend smother her in kisses, to have her friend’s tongue where her own right hand now was. And to return every attention. Thoughts of Charlotte’s pussy and breasts and lips and tongue filled Anne’s head. Sobbing her need she came again.

Something resembling rational thought returned. Anne sat there, fear replacing desire. What was happening to her? She didn’t understand. She thought she still loved Liam, wanted Liam. She forced images of her boyfriend into her head. The emotions, the needs, she expected, came with them. There was a depth to her emotional attachment to her boyfriend that reassured her. Cautiously she thought of Charlotte. She recoiled at emotions that swirled about the images. Lust mixed with more tender emotions. There was a hot, raw, edge to her feelings that she recognised, the sensations of a new love, the urgent, shining feelings whenever you first fall for someone.

No, Anne told herself, her hands balled into fists, fingernails pressing into her palms, no. She wasn’t going to let this happen. It wasn’t fair to Liam, or to Charlotte, or to anyone. Whatever Chloe had awoken in her that morning she didn’t have to let it take control of her. She had a choice. Even if she had a bisexual side that she’d never known about, let alone acted on before, that didn’t mean she had to give into it. Liam meant too much to her for that.

Resolved, Anne tidied herself up as best she could, and snuck out of her stall.

That night Anne practically begged Liam to eat her out. She needed something to wipe away the images of Chloe, of Charlotte, to help her forget. She heard herself promising Liam anything if he’d go down on her. Her boyfriend shrugged. He wasn’t unwilling, but Anne’s insistence left him obviously perplexed. Anne screamed his name as she came, then ravaged him until they both fell asleep.

To Be Continued