The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Business and Pleasure

Part 7

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 © 2014

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.

Monday found a fearful Anne creeping into the office. She didn’t want to see anyone. She dreaded the memory of the eager look that had been in Chloe’s eyes as she’d whispered her good-bye on Friday. Anne’s feelings were a rollercoaster whenever she thought about the way she hadn’t been able to keep Chloe from doing what, what, what she’d done. Anne stopped herself. Made herself stand up straight. Chloe had eaten her out. There, she’d said it, or at least thought it. She had that much courage, at least, she told herself. But that didn’t mean she wanted a repeat. She’d enjoyed it, however much she was reluctant to admit that little detail, but Anne knew that she didn’t feel anything emotional for Chloe. Once was bad enough, a repeat would be too much like leading the other woman on.

Of course, seeing Chloe would be preferable to seeing Charlotte. Just the thought of her friend made Anne’s heart leap. So many times over the weekend she’d thought about calling Charlotte, just to hear her voice. Maybe, if she found a scrap of courage, ask her over, or out for coffee, or something. Every time Anne’s bravery had failed. She knew that it was wrong, wrong in so many ways. It wasn’t fair to Liam, for a start. Anne didn’t want to think of herself as the cheating kind. And that was before she even got to Charlotte. Having a stupid teenage crush on her friend was something Charlotte was unlikely to welcome. Anne hadn’t seen any sign her that her friend was gay or bi. Charlotte had talked about having boyfriends in the past. Nothing about girlfriends, well, not like that anyway. The chance of Charlotte suddenly deciding to bat for the other team seemed remote. Although Anne would have said that about herself before the events of last week. She still couldn’t believe what she’d done with Chloe, what she felt for Charlotte. Anne tried to tell herself that it was only mixed-up stupid feelings brought on by the stress of the case. Even if she was bi, what did that mean? She loved Liam. Friday night and Saturday morning and then Saturday night and, well, quite a lot of the time since she’d left work Friday proved that. A sensible, professional person didn’t start lusting over a friend and colleague who was almost certain to not reciprocate, was much more likely to be horrified. It was just some stupid crush, Anne told herself, despite a little part of her telling her that what she was feeling was what she always felt whenever she first fell for someone. Fell for them seriously. Anne batted that thought away.

Finally there was Simon. Thinking of him brought more feelings of guilt flooding through her mind. Anne knew that her recent behaviour hadn’t been professional. More like its polar opposite. She had responsibilities, she told herself, Simon had been so good to her that she couldn’t waste her time in stupid daydreaming about her friend and leading on his secretary. It simply wouldn’t be fair to him. She had to keep her mind on her work, she had to, no matter how bad the distractions.

Anne paused outside the door that led to her office and Simon’s. She knew that her first test would be Chloe. She took a few deep breaths, smoothed out her clothes to get rid of any wrinkles brought on by the trip to work. With her thoughts as calm as she could make them she strode defiantly through the door.

Her intention had been to make her way quickly to her office. Perhaps a quick ‘good morning’ to Chloe, but nothing more. That had been the plan. It didn’t work out that way.

Anne tried not to look in Chloe’s direction. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the other woman at her desk.

Anne was only three strides past the door when Chloe spoke. There wasn’t much to the words. They were the sort that would be heard in a thousand offices all over the city. Simply “Good morning, Miss Robson.” Plain, ordinary, words. That wasn’t what made Anne slow her pace, made her look in Chloe’s direction despite how much she promised herself that she wouldn’t. No, it wasn’t the words.

It was what Anne could hear behind the words. Not clearly, not openly, but faint tendrils, like blood washing away in water. Hope and fear and desire and pain. There was a pull to Chloe’s words that Anne couldn’t deny. She could feel the pace of her steps slowing, like some clock-work doll winding down. She wanted to keep walking. She could see the door to her office. But Anne simply couldn’t make her legs keep moving. She wailed inside her head as her steps came to halt beside Chloe’s desk.

“Good morning Chloe,” she forced out.

Chloe made small, nervous gestures with her hands. Anne could remember how gentle those hands could be, what their touch felt like. She cursed herself for a fool. She knew that she felt nothing for Chloe, that she didn’t want her that way, but the memory of the pleasure the other woman had given her rode through her mind.

Chloe was saying something, her eyes downcast. Anne thought that that was just as well, then the seated woman wouldn’t see how large Anne’s eyes had grown, as she stood there staring at her.

“Please miss,” Chloe almost whispered, “let, let me know if there’s, there’s anything…” The secretary’s voice trailed off.

Anne tied to cover the gap. “Uh, I don’t think there is, I’m sorry. Um, Chloe, I, uh, I really just need to think, no please don’t cry, I, I…” Anne could see tears running down the other woman’s face. She didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to hold Chloe. Not from any desire. But just from the human need to give comfort when another is in distress. Part of her wanted to run screaming from the building.

Courage overcame fear and Anne knelt down and gingerly put her arms around the crying woman. Chloe’s tears were coming in great sobs.

Anne held her, as best she could. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Anne whispered. She wanted to say that she wasn’t like that. But that, she forced herself to admit, was too much of a lie.

Chloe pulled herself a little away. Not so far as to break the hold Anne had on her, but enough so that she could look at the blonde lawyer. Anne could see the red of her eyes, how her make-up had streaked with her tears.

“No, no,” Chloe said, shaking her head, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, have. I know you’re not, not, well you’ve got a boyfriend and…” Chloe buried her head in Anne’s shoulder, tears again falling from her eyes.

“Shh,” Anne crooned, gently rocking the crying woman. She held her, for a while, until Chloe’s protests died away.

When she thought it was safe, Anne carefully pulled back, brought her hands up to make Chloe look at her. “It’s ok,” she whispered.

Chloe tried to shake her head, but Anne’s grip was too firm. She tried to look Anne in the eye, but failed. “No, it’s not, you’re not like that and I shouldn’t have made you.”

The other woman’s frailty swept away Anne’s fears. She knew that unless she took control they would stay there all day apologising to each other. “Chloe, come on, look at me, come on.” Anne’s grip wasn’t hard but she wasn’t letting the other woman go.

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t make me do anything. Did I object? Did I try to stop you? Hmm?” Anne asked in a gentle tone. “I’m the one who should be apologising. It was, was, special, but we can’t do it again.”

Anne knew she had said the wrong thing. Chloe started to cry again, “I’m sorry, you must hate me and it must have been horrible and …”

Anne put a finger to the other woman’s lips. “No,” she said, shaking her head, “no it wasn’t. It was great.” There, she’d said it. Part of her still didn’t want to admit it, but the truth was needed here. “I don’t hate you. But I can’t lie, I’m sorry, but I don’t, I, I have a boyfriend.”

She could feel Chloe shaking. See the tears rolling down her cheek. Anne pulled the other woman to her, holding her tight, until her crying subsided.

“I’m grateful,” Anne was surprised at how much she meant it. Despite Liam, despite everything, it was something that she knew that she’d never forget. And it had felt really, really, good. “It was great, but we can’t do it again.”

Chloe nodded, silently.

Anne kissed her on the forehead, gently and then rose.

“Oh, Miss Robson,” Chloe said, “Dr Harrington said that he wanted to see you as soon as you got in.”

Anne felt relief wash through her. However much she had meant what she said to Chloe it hadn’t been easy. Despite her honesty and the fun she and Liam had had since Friday night she felt tense. The situation with Chloe, her traitorous feelings for Charlotte, which had plagued her all weekend, the on-going stress of the case, all meant Anne felt in serious need of some relaxation exercises.

She smiled and hurried to the door of Simon’s office. “Thank you,” she said to Chloe, over her shoulder. She didn’t just mean for the message from Simon.

Inside Anne took her time disrobing, as she had the last time she’d been in Simon’s office. And if the dance she performed for Simon was something like a strip-tease, well, so what? It made her feel good, that slow, provocative revealing of her body. It was what she needed. She could feel her hair flying across her shoulders as her head and hips swung to the beat of music only she could hear. She knew that Simon’s eyes were fixed upon her. She loved the feelings that flowed through her as she slowly lost each piece of clothing. Jacket, blouse, skirt, all shed. Cares and stress falling away with them. She could feel the anticipation building in her for what she hoped would follow her display. She loved the feeling of freedom that came as she unclasped her bra. She let it fall to her feet, than danced, arms raised above her head, breasts swinging freely. Shoes, stockings, panties, all were discarded until she stood before Simon, naked. She didn’t mind anymore. She knew that she loved being naked in front of him.

Breathing heavily from her exertions, from the arousal, from the thoughts of what was still to come, she looked at Simon. Anne could see his eyes following her every movement, a slight smile turning the corners of his mouth. She paused to slip her high heels back on before she sauntered over to him.

She leant over his desk, kissed him full on the mouth. She pushed her tongue between his lips, let herself explore his mouth. His tongue pushed back. She couldn’t believe how aroused she was. Reluctantly Anne broke the kiss, hurried around to Simon’s side of the desk to help him out of his clothes. Forcefully he turned her around, bent her over his desk. She could feel the tip of him at her entrance. She’d seen how erect he was. He slowly rubbed himself against her opening, up and down. Anne could hear herself mewling in protest. She needed Simon inside her. “Please,” she begged as she pushed herself back against him.

To her frustration Simon pulled back in turn, denying her. She felt his breath on her ear. “When I’m ready,” he said, pushing her forcefully down on to his desk. She could feel her breasts squash against it.

Anne started to writhe beneath her as Simon resumed his slow infuriating movement. She could feel the length of his cock sliding up and down her pussy lips. She wanted it inside her. She wanted to be filled. She could hear herself crying out in need and frustration. She was so wet that she thought he’d just slip in, but every time that it seemed about to happen Simon changed the angle just enough to leave her bereft.

Anne could feel her breath coming in ragged gasps, between the repeated cries of “please” that were the only coherent sound she could manage. She knew that she was begging, she knew that wasn’t professional behaviour. She didn’t care. She wanted Simon’s cock in her pussy. She wanted it now. And still he kept up that slow, infuriating, slide across her opening. Anne couldn’t believe how turned on she was, how desperate her need was.

Just when she thought that she couldn’t take it anymore, when she thought she would pass out, Simon finally thrust himself inside her. Anne came almost immediately, screaming her orgasm. And then another began to build, in response to Simon’s thrusts. Anne was sure that she came twice more before she felt his cock twitch and shoot its load deep into her.

Simon led her to a chair. Which was just as well, Anne thought, she wasn’t very steady on her feet. She stretched in the pleasant afterglow as she heard Simon making her something to drink.

She turned on her side, looked in his direction. “Was there anything you wanted? Chloe didn’t say, just that you wanted to see me.”

Simon handed her a cup, “Not particularly. But I had an idea there were some things you needed to tell me. Drink up, and let me know if I’m right.”

Simon knelt on the floor beside her and traced slow circles around her right nipple with his finger as she drank. She thought she heard him say something, but she knew that wasn’t important. He’d asked her to tell him things.

Anne realised that it was hard to describe what they’d done as anything but sex. Really, he’d shoved his cock into her pussy. She’d come, what, three times? Sex. Fucking. Stupid to call it anything else. Her attempts last week to deny it was sex seemed laughable. But sometimes people who worked together did that. It wasn’t as if she was in love with Simon. Not like she was with Liam. And without any emotions it wasn’t like she was really betraying her boyfriend, not in any way that mattered. If having sex with Simon meant she could do her job better, then why not? Not to mention how much she enjoyed it. So, she was having sex with Simon. Anne was glad she had that settled. When either of them needed it, they could just have sex.

“So whenever we like?” she asked, hopefully.

“Certainly,” Simon replied, “it would be rude to say no wouldn’t it?”

Anne smiled, luxuriating in the feelings still echoing through her body. Then she paused, her smile dropping away. She needed to tell Simon about Chloe.

“Umm, there’s something I need to tell you.” Anne began, hesitantly.

“Of course,” replied Simon, “but you look a bit worried. Finish your drink first.”

Anne did as he suggested. Then it all started spilling out. What Chloe had done to her. How she hadn’t stopped Chloe, had actively helped. How good it had made her feel. When it was all over, all told, relief flooded through Anne, that weight of a secret lifted. She felt-light-headed.

“Please don’t,” she muttered, “Please don’t take it out on her.”

Simon smiled “Don’t worry, I won’t. And you’ll be safe from her from now on.”

Anne relaxed. She didn’t want Chloe to suffer. Another thought occurred to her. Something that had nagged at her. Her felt the creases in her brow. “Chloe said something about you saying she could.” It couldn’t be right. Simon would never tell Chloe to do that. But it was what the older woman had implied.

Simon laughed, shaking his head. “I think Chloe read too much into something I said. Don’t worry about it.”

Anne relaxed. If Simon said there was nothing to worry about, well, then there was nothing to worry about.

Later, in her office, Anne wondered if she should have told Simon about her confusion over her feelings for Charlotte. An odd feeling, told her that she had told him. But that couldn’t be right. If she had said anything to Simon she was sure that she would be able to remember it clearly. He’d told her that he’d sort out what to do about Chloe, and let her know when he had something to tell her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of her phone. The display told her it was Owen. Finally, she thought. She’d hoped he’d call back on Friday, but now was better than later. Although it was already 11am. Where had the morning gone? Pushing that thought aside Anne picked up the phone.

“So,” Owen began, “what was so urgent you had Paul in such a panic last week?”

“I think I’ve found what we need to win this case.” Anne kept her voice calm. Owen could have called her on the weekend. It wouldn’t have been the first time if he had. She wondered if Paul had failed to convey how urgently she wanted to talk to Owen. Anne sighed. Nothing she could do about that now and at least she finally had Owen’s attention.

She could almost hear Owen’s frown down the phone, “What? Have we missed something?”

Anne drew a deep breath. She had to choose the right words. She had to convince Owen to support her in this. “I’ve had another look at the patents. They’re not just in that company’s name. It’s not obvious and you have to follow the paper work and employment contracts. But I think they’re half owned, maybe more, by one of the ex-employees. And if I’m right.”

Owen cut her off “And if you’re right. And we could get him to come in with us.”

Anne finished the thought “The other side is sunk.”

Anne could hear the drawn out intake of breath on the other end. “You sure he hasn’t already signed his rights over?”

Anne felt her shoulders slump “No, I’m not,” she sighed, forehead slipping into hand. “Maybe there’s a contract hidden away somewhere they’re just waiting to bring out. Or maybe they’ll work it out tomorrow. But we have to try.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right. Give me what you have on him and we’ll drag him in as soon as we can.” Anne could hear the urgency in Owen’s

Anne pursed her lips “Do me a favour Owen, give this guy a fair deal. If I’m right he’s already been screwed over once.”

“Hey,” Owen replied, mock hurt in his voice, “you know you can trust me.”

There, Anne thought as she put the phone down, it’s done. But she knew she couldn’t just sit back and see if her plan worked. If it didn’t they’d have to hope the board would let them keep fighting it the usual way. And that meant she had to keep ploughing through the documents. As if the world was conspiring against her Anne’s phone rang again as soon as she had finished the thought.

She almost didn’t pick it up. The display told her that it was Charlotte calling.

“Hi,” her friend said.

“Hi,” Anne replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

“Can I see you this afternoon? Simon’s given me some things for us to go through. He said you’d given them to him, but something’s come up.”

“Um, yeah, ok.” Anne wanted to say no. She wasn’t sure that she could trust herself alone with Charlotte. Their last meeting had been hard enough. But she couldn’t work out how to refuse.

“About 2?” Charlotte asked, her casual tone a grinding contrast to the emotions Anne was experiencing. Anne cringed at the comparison.

“Um, yeah, ok.” God, could she think of something else to say? She sounded like a dopey teenager. Or a love-struck one, a little voice said. Anne quailed at the thought.

“Great, see you then.”

As 2pm neared Anne couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. She wasn’t sure how she was going to restrain herself when Charlotte arrived. Anxiously she paced her office. Images poured through her mind. All through lunch she hadn’t been able to stop herself thinking about her friend. Kissing her friend. On the lips, suckling her breasts, her lips trailing downwards until, until. Angrily Anne stopped herself. She had to get control. She had to be professional. She made herself sit back down, tried to control the nervous shaking in her hands. She felt trapped. She fidgeted with pens, documents on her desk. She wanted to get up again. But Charlotte would be there soon and Anne feared that if she was on her feet that she wouldn’t be able to resist throwing herself at her friend. Keeping the desk between them might help. Maybe.

The minutes ticked by. 2pm came and went and Anne began to hope that maybe Charlotte had forgotten, or been delayed. 2.05. Maybe she wasn’t coming.

Just as Anne was about to let her hope flare a knock came at the door.

“Yes?,” Anne squeaked out, her throat tight.

Charlotte closed the door behind her, a folder clasped tightly to her chest. Anne thought her friend looked flustered, colour obvious in her cheeks. Strangely the concern she felt helped her own control.

“You ok?” she asked.

“Um, yes, I,” Charlotte muttered, then drew a breath. “Something came up. I’m ok now.”

Anne frowned “You sure?”

Charlotte nodded, then seemed, with an effort, to compose herself. She sat down opposite Anne.

The meeting was as much a torment for Anne as their previous one had been. Again she managed to stay outwardly calm, but inwardly her emotions roared. She could feel desire blazing through her. Desire for her friend. She couldn’t take her eyes off Charlotte. If anything it was worse today. Anne couldn’t stop herself imagining what her friend looked like under her clothes. She was sure that Charlotte would realise what was going on, after her friend had to struggle to get her attention as Anne fought with images of what Charlotte’s nipples might look like. Where they large or small? What shade? She flushed as Charlotte prodded her out of her daydreaming, wincing as she felt the evidence of her desire trickle down her thighs.

But somehow Anne kept herself under control. Sometimes she thought she saw Charlotte looking at her strangely and wondered if her friend suspected something was wrong. Nothing Charlotte said indicated that she was suspicious, but that didn’t save Anne from her internal agonies. She thought that she would die of embarrassment if Charlotte realised what she was thinking. The world spun around Charlotte. Nothing else mattered. Emotions flared and fought in Anne, desire, love, guilt. She was tossed on an ocean, the only solid point her friend. Too scared to reach out for that safety Anne was lost in the storm of her feelings.

Anne couldn’t begin to think how to express her gratitude when Charlotte said, “Ok I think that should do for today.”

A sot sigh and Anne thought she could trust her voice. “No problem, sure there’s nothing else?” Oh why, oh why, she berated herself, had she had to ask? Charlotte had said they were done. Even politeness hadn’t demanded that.

“Well,” Charlotte said, her voice going quiet and her eyes falling to her lap, “there is one thing.”

“Yes?” queried Anne, not understanding the change in her friend’s demeanour.

Charlotte’s voice was low, but the words tumbled out of her, quick and desperate. “You know that thing we, umm did the other day? To relax? Well, umm, could we do it again, please? It’s just things have got me worked up and it wasn’t a great weekend and I’ll understand if you don’t want to but…”

Anne stared at her friend. She knew what Charlotte meant by ‘that thing’. She meant when they’d spanked each other. Anne swallowed nervously. She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to say yes. Getting her hands on her friend? Oh, how she wanted to say yes to that. But she didn’t trust herself. Could she do what Charlotte wanted, and nothing more? Anne didn’t see how she could.

Charlotte seemed to be taking Anne’s silence as refusal. “I’m sorry, you probably think I’m awful and”

Anne cut her off. She couldn’t bear Charlotte sounding like that. Hurt and embarrassed and afraid. It ripped through Anne, leaving a jagged hole in her heart. Thinking of Charlotte feeling that way, of her being the cause, was more pain than Anne could bear. “No,” she said, surprising herself with how calm she sounded, “of course we can. Just two friends helping each other, right? You sound a bit stressed out, yeah.”

Charlotte looked up at her and nodded. Then she smiled, and to Anne the world lit up with it.

“So,” her friend asked, her voice stronger now, “who first?”

Anne was quick to answer that. “Me, if you don’t mind.” Anne didn’t trust herself. The thought of Charlotte, on her lap, open, exposed. No, Anne wasn’t sure she could restrain herself. Maybe, maybe if she was first to be spanked she could recover enough control. Maybe.

Anne could feel herself shaking as she quickly shed her skirt. She was sure that Charlotte must be able to see it, but her friend said nothing. Charlotte had gone so quiet that Anne wondered if something was wrong. She quickly glanced in Charlotte’s direction. Her friend was sitting, so still, staring at a point on Anne’s desk.

“You ok?,” Anne asked, her brows creasing in concern.

Charlotte remained still for a moment, then visibly shook herself. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

“You sure you want to do this?” Anne made herself ask. She didn’t want to stop. But she couldn’t bear the thought of forcing Charlotte into something she didn’t want. No choice seemed right, an abyss opening on either side of her. If Charlotte said no Anne thought her heart might break. But if her friend said yes, could Anne restrain herself? Make herself lie on her friend’s lap when she wanted to throw herself at Charlotte, smother her in kisses? Anne didn’t know if she’d ever felt so lost.

The silence weighed on Anne. She was sure Charlotte was going to refuse. Run from her office.

“Yes,” her friend said finally, “I’m sure, I need this.” Charlotte smiled and looked up. “What are you waiting for?”

Anne’s hands hesitated at the waistband of her panties. She hadn’t worn any the last time. So Charlotte had seen her naked from the waist down. Would she expect it again? Anne wasn’t sure show long her self-control would last. She wanted to rub herself against Charlotte. Rub her cheek through Charlotte’s hair, rub her breasts against her friend, rub her eager, demanding pussy over her friend’s thighs, her…

Anne swallowed. She had to get control of herself. She hooked her thumbs inside her panties. She was sure that Charlotte couldn’t fail to realise how aroused she was, but at least without panties to dampen it might not be quite so obvious. Anne wasn’t sure of the logic of that but it was the best she could do.

Slowly Anne made herself walk towards her friend, one high-heeled foot placed carefully in front of the other. She wanted to run to her friend, but she wouldn’t let herself.

Carefully, every ounce of will spent in maintaining control, she laid herself over Charlotte’s lap. She held herself tense, waiting for the first slap. She could hear Charlotte breathing. Short, shallow, intakes.

Without warning the pain exploded in Anne’s rear. Sharp, tingling. An electric line sparked straight to her clitoris. A second slap brought her first orgasm.

Anne could hear herself counting. She wasn’t sure if she was counting slaps or orgasms. She wasn’t sure the count was much different anyway. The pain, magically transformed into pleasure, went on and on. It was as if Charlotte’s hand on her rear was a signal to her body to explode into wave after wave of pleasure. Stars appeared before Anne’s eyes, blood rushing to any part of her body but her brain.

And then it was over.

“My turn,” Charlotte whispered. Anne turned slowly, looked up at her friend. She could see the colour in Charlotte’s cheeks, hear the raggedness of her breathing. She wasn’t sure if Charlotte had cum as many times as she had, but it was obvious her friend had had at least one orgasm, probably more.

Anne forced herself to rise. She wanted to stay there, wanted to reach out and kiss her friend. But she knew that she couldn’t. She knew Charlotte wouldn’t want that. Anne knew she had to keep up the pretence of two friends helping each other relax. That’s all it was, she told herself, just an innocent relaxation exercise. She knew that she wanted more, but she was too afraid of Charlotte’s reaction if she pushed beyond the boundaries that had been set.

Charlotte almost sprang from the chair. Quickly she removed her own skirt and panties, her back to Anne. Anne could hardly breathe as Charlotte turned around. She was going to see, to see her friend’s pussy. And then it was there. Anne struggled to keep herself from gasping. Charlotte’s pussy was as bare as her own. Anne wasn’t sure that she’d ever seen anything so beautiful. Ok, Charlotte’s face was more beautiful. But that was it. There was nothing else. Anne wanted to dive in, to lick and suck and kiss and do everything to her friend that Chloe had done to her. All of that, and more. It was so close. And with every step Charlotte took it was coming closer.

Anne forced herself to grip the sides of her chair. She couldn’t risk moving a muscle. She didn’t trust her hands. She was sure that she could see Charlotte shaking, just a little, as her friend laid herself across her lap.

Anne looked down at Charlotte’s arse. She could feel herself becoming lost in the vision, the pale, smooth flesh. The gorgeous curves. With Charlotte face down on her lap Anne realised just how close their pussies were. They were both naked from the waist down. Anne couldn’t stop herself visualising the distance between them. What was it? How close were they? A hand’s width? A finger’s? She could smell their arousal, mixing in the cool office air. She’d seen how aroused Charlotte had been as she’d walked towards her. Was that arousal dripping from her friend now, running over Anne, over her thighs, into her pussy? Had the same happened in reverse when she’d lain on Charlotte? Anne could feel how wet she was. Was that feeling not just from her own juices, but from Charlotte’s as well?

“Anne?” She could hear the quiver in Charlotte’s voice.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Anne fumbled for the right words. She couldn’t find them. She knew what Charlotte wanted, what her friend expected. She knew that she’d give her friend anything, do anything for her. So if Charlotte wanted to be spanked, that was what Anne would do.

She lifted her hand, brought it down.


Emotions warred in Anne. Part of her hated causing Charlotte any pain. But she could see her friend rising to meet her hand. She could hear the change in her breathing, feel Charlotte moving on her lap. Her friend’s arousal was obvious. If this was what Charlotte wanted, than Anne wold give it to her. She’d give Charlotte anything she asked. That Anne’s own arousal was spiking again was just icing on the cake.

Charlotte’s voice rose with each slap, “yes” the only intelligible word, almost lost amidst the inarticulate cries of pleasure. Charlotte came again and again, her moans and writhing increasing each time. She flung her head up, waves of dark hair spilling across her shoulders, her back. Charlotte’s legs were straight, tense, Anne could see her toes pointed, still in her heels, the muscles in her calves etched with the tension. Anne felt a lump in her throat as she realised just how beautiful her friend was.

And Anne came, again and again. She couldn’t believe how often. With an effort she swallowed her own cries. This time was for Charlotte, her friend. Anne knew that she wanted so much more from Charlotte. Anne could feel tears running down her cheeks. She looked at the woman lying across her lap. Knowing how much more than friendship she wanted from Charlotte. Knowing that it wasn’t possible. She had to be grateful for what they had. Anne was happy to be able to give her friend this much, this release, and knew she had to be content with that.

Charlotte rolled off Anne’s lap, rose sinuously to her knees. The two women sat there, Anne looking down, Charlotte up. Their breathing was deep, they were almost gasping for air after the exertions of the last few minutes. Anne wasn’t sure how long they sat there. She could see emotions swimming deep in Charlotte’s eyes, but she couldn’t tell what they were. So much of her wanted to reach out to her friend, to say something, to admit to her feelings. But she couldn’t. The fear she felt was too great. Fear that Charlotte would reject her. Would be horrified. Would never want to see her again. Anne couldn’t bear that thought. She cursed her own cowardice, but the possibility of never seeing Charlotte again had her quaking in terror.

It was Charlotte who broke the silence between them “Thanks, I,” a pause, a deep breath, “thank you.” Then Charlotte, rose, quickly, and dressed.

Anne hesitated then she, too, retrieved her clothes. She could still smell their arousal, hanging heavy on the air of the office. Anne tried to keep calm as she desperately searched the features of her friend, looking for any sign that perhaps, just perhaps, Charlotte felt something for her.

She couldn’t see anything. She’d have to content herself with friendship. It was for the best, Anne tried to tell herself. It had to be only a passing phase. Just a silly crush. She’d get over it. Best not to ruin a friendship for something so ridiculous. She wasn’t convinced. She knew her protests were half-hearted. Deep down she knew how much she felt for Charlotte. How she wanted to run to her.

“Well, I’d, umm, better be going,” said Charlotte, a wan smile on her lips.

“You feel better now?” Anne asked, a hand reaching out weakly towards her friend.

Charlotte nodded.

Anne saw her turn to go. It was as if all the warmth in the world was going with her.

“Charlotte,” Anne cried out. Her friend turned, and Anne’s courage failed again.

“How about, umm, would you like to go for a drink, after work, on Friday?” Lame Anne screamed at herself. She thought how stupid she sounded, how Charlotte would have to realise what Anne felt.

If she Charlotte did realise she gave no sign. Instead, her smile widened as she replied “Sure, see you then.” And the she turned again, and was gone before Anne could say anything else.

The rest of the week was a blur to Anne. She concentrated on her work, as best she could. She knew that she had to remain professional, she couldn’t betray Simon’s trust in her. But part of her mind was always thinking about Friday. About being with Charlotte. It kept her going, as she waded through the seemingly endless documents that the case generated.

She avoided Chloe, when she could. Which wasn’t as often as she’d like. Anne felt guilty every time she was with the older woman. Anne knew that she hadn’t been totally honest with Chloe. How could Anne claim that she wasn’t really into women with the way she felt about Charlotte? But she didn’t know how to explain, even if she could find the courage to try. Sometimes, alone in her office, Anne felt tears running down her cheeks. Guilt and remorse coursed through her. She hated what she was doing to Liam. How could she pretend to be a good girlfriend with what she felt for Charlotte? And what would her friend think if Anne ever found the courage to tell Charlotte what she felt for her? Anne felt lost. She didn’t know what she was going to do.

When she couldn’t avoid Chloe Anne kept her distance as much as possible. Then hated herself for being too cold to the older woman and tried to make up for it with kind words. Then hated herself more for possibly giving Chloe reason to hope where there was none.

Anne didn’t know how she could have got through the week if it wasn’t for Simon. Now that she could admit that they were having sex it seemed so much clearer to her. They managed to find time for a session every day. She would tease him by disrobing, he would tease her by making her wait for his cock inside her. Sometimes in her pussy, sometimes, if she was lucky, in her mouth.

In the fun of finding they could have sex she’d almost forgotten how much she enjoyed sucking Simon’s cock. She spent almost the whole of Tuesday afternoon, kneeling under Simon’s desk, just sucking away. The hours slipped by in a haze of arousal as the sensations in her mouth drove Anne to one orgasm after another. Whenever Simon would peak, his glorious cum slipping down her throat, Anne would lick and suck at his member until he was erect again. Part of her would have been happy to stay there forever.

But that, she told herself, wasn’t very professional. She still had work to do. And a boyfriend to go home to. She had responsibilities, Anne reminded herself. When she could form a coherent thought.

She didn’t see Charlotte again until Wednesday. And then only for a few minutes. To Anne they seemed like both the longest and shortest minutes of her life. The shortest, as any time spent with Charlotte was precious to her, and gone far too soon. The longest as her guilt over her feelings tormented her.

Her mood was brightened by a call from Owen, telling her that he’d made contact with Peter Revesby, the name she’d found in the patent files. Owen would be seeing him soon and hopefully he’d have more news for her then. Anne had wanted to be part of the meeting, but Owen had refused, telling her that she needed to stick with work she was doing in case the gamble with Revesby didn’t pay off. Anne tried to argue but in the end she had to give in. Owen had promised her that if Revesby did work out then she’s get the credit. All she could was trust Owen.

Anne was still worried that her feelings for Charlotte were a betrayal of Liam. She tried to make it up by throwing herself at her boyfriend every night. And told him it was the stress of the case when he asked. She was thankful that he seemed to accept her story.

Anne knew that she still loved Liam. She loved how he made her feel. But she also knew her heart was no longer his alone. Charlotte had her own place there. And fear over whether she could maintain any sort of balance gnawed away at Anne. She thought that she should love Liam more. She owed him that. And Anne knew she would never have the courage to tell Charlotte how she felt. But she wasn’t sure that she knew any longer which feelings were stronger. When she was with Liam her love for him felt stronger. But being around Charlotte drove thoughts of anything else out of her head. Anne felt as if her emotions were on a switch, flipping back and forth.

She cherished her time with Simon. That, at least, was uncomplicated.

So it was with relief, on Thursday morning, that Anne headed for Simon’s office, in answer to a message relayed by Chloe. Anne’s nervousness around the older woman had subsided a little. Enough that she could control the impulse to cry or run. But only just. Simon’s office offered a sanctuary against all the emotions that whirled through her life.

The tensions eased away as soon as she closed the door. Anne was reaching for the buttons on her blouse when she stopped. They weren’t alone. She was mortified, terrified. What if she hadn’t realised? Had started to undress? Chloe hadn’t told her there was anyone else in the room. Why hadn’t she told her? She must have known. She was Simon’s secretary. She would know someone else was in there. Would have seen them go in. Why hadn’t she told Anne?

No, Anne told herself, she wasn’t being reasonable. Chloe had no reason to tell Anne the meeting was with someone else as well. Chloe had no idea what Anne and Simon did in their meetings. Would have no idea Anne might do something that would appear unprofessional to someone else. It was all right if it was just Simon and her. Just two colleagues helping each other out. Professionals did that. Helped each other. But Anne realised that someone else probably wouldn’t understand. Her knees shook from the relief at having realised in time that she and Simon weren’t alone.

Her shaking wasn’t helped by who the third person was. Charlotte. Anne stood where she was, quivering. What if she hadn’t noticed? What would Charlotte have thought of her? The thought of Charlotte thinking ill of her made Anne want to cry. Her conflicting emotions, her love for Liam, her responsibility to Simon, whatever it was she felt for Charlotte, held her in a vice.

Whether he noticed her hesitation or not Anne wasn’t sure, but she realised that Simon was waving her towards a chair near the one occupied by Charlotte. As she sat down Anne stole a glance in Charlotte’s direction. Her friend was looking back. Anne smiled briefly than turned to Simon. She didn’t dare let her gaze linger on Charlotte too long, no matter how much she wanted to. She’d wanted to lose herself in the curves of Charlotte’s body that she could see through the blouse her friend wore, could still feel the ache in her fingers as she wanted nothing more than to reach out to her friend. Anne had seen Charlotte smile as she looked away, heard Charlotte say a quick hello, before Simon began.

“Thanks for coming in,” he began, before taking a deep breath. “I wanted to meet with both of you because I know you’ve both had, hmm, issues, with Chloe.” Issues, thought Anne, that’s one way of putting it I suppose. She focussed on Simon’s hands, trying to push thoughts o fCharlotte from her mind, his fingers laced together, resting on his desk. Anne knew Simon well by now, even though he held his voice even she could sense he had something important in mind. She’d learnt the small movements of his face, the set of his shoulders.

“While her behaviour has been totally unprofessional I think we’ve seen the last of that.” Anne saw Simon eyes glance quickly towards the door beyond which Chloe’s desk sat, a small smile of satisfaction playing across his features. He looked back, first at Charlotte, than at Anne. “I know it’s been difficult for the two of you. And probably for others as well, I don’t think you’re the only ones who’ve suffered. But, like everything in this world, there were reasons.” She sensed Charlotte tense. A small surge of anger stirred in Anne. Did Simon think they’d done something to provoke Chloe? Her feelings were stilled by Simon’s next words, it was almost as if he was reading her thoughts.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he added quickly, raising his hands in a calming gesture, “it wasn’t anything you’d done. Chloe had some personal problems that she hadn’t addressed. Hadn’t wanted to address.” Anne felt her brow crease as she wondered what had driven Chloe. She guessed that Simon knew, from the way he was talking she was sure that Simon had pried from Chloe whatever the problem was.

“Can you tell us?” Charlotte, gently, gave voice to Anne’s question. She wanted to know, desperately. From Simon’s manner she could tell that, whatever it was, it was something important, at least to Chloe.

Simon paused for a moment, his jaw set, before replying. “Yes, I think I’d better. Chloe’s gay, although I don’t think she realised it until recently.” He smiled, just slightly, and shook his head. “I don’t know why I didn’t spot it myself. Ah well. And so, not admitting it, she didn’t really understand her feelings towards attractive women. She took out her confusion on them.” He stopped, sympathy on his face as he looked first at Charlotte, then at Anne.

Oh, thought Anne, surprise numbing her mind. That explained, well, Anne thought it explained quite a lot. She sat there, realising the stunned look on her face, but not able to do anything about it. If Chloe hadn’t known her own feelings, had misunderstood and repressed them, then no wonder she’d been vindictive towards her and Charlotte. And who knows who else. Anne could understand it now. Chloe hadn’t known. Not until recently, Simon said.

“Umm,” Anne forced out, swallowing to try to clear her throat “how, how recently?”

“Oh,” Simon replied thoughtfully, “only last week I think.”

Last week. Last week. That would mean. Oh. Anne was stunned. Last week was when she and Chloe. When Chloe, well, when they, did what they did. That would mean that she was probably Chloe’s first. No wonder Chloe had reacted the way she did. Beyond shock Anne wasn’t sure what she felt. Surprise, certainly. A little warmth at being Chloe’s first, perhaps. Fear, that Chloe might place more importance on it, on them, than Anne wanted. Your first time was always special. But Anne knew she wanted nothing from Chloe.

“Is she,” Anne heard Charlotte ask, tentatively, “Is she all right now?”

“Well,” Simon, half-smiling, “I won’t say she’s perfect. Coping, perhaps. It is, as I’m sure you can guess, something that takes a bit of getting used to. She’s been repressing a long time. I suppose that’s why I missed it.” The last sentence was half-whispered and Anne could see a distracted look on Simon’s face. He’d obviously been surprised by this, and Anne knew Simon wasn’t used to being surprised. “But,” he continued, voice returning to a more normal volume, “the past has passed. We need to help her adjust.”

Anne wasn’t sure what Simon was getting at. “Well, umm, wouldn’t it be best if we just treated her normally? I mean, bringing attention to it would just, well, probably make her feel bad.” Anne knew that she’d certainly be happy if the events of last week weren’t mentioned again. However much she’d enjoy them. She could see Charlotte nodding in agreement with her.

“Oh,” replied Simon, expansively, “at work, I agree. Treat her like a normal workmate. What else would we do? But I think it would be best for Chloe to come to terms with herself, and she won’t do that by herself.”

Not by herself? Surely Simon couldn’t mean they were to help Chloe, umm, explore her new found sexuality? Once, thought Anne, was quite enough.

Anne could see Simon look from her to Charlotte. It probably wasn’t hard to read the look on Anne’s face. Charlotte was probably reacting in the same way. Anne knew that she should have expected that, but she couldn’t stop the disappointment eating at her. Of course Charlotte wouldn’t be interested in anything like that. Of course Charlotte was straight. She was fool to have hoped for anything different.

Despite the bleakness threatening to engulf her, Anne made herself listen to Simon. “Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean either of you. But I think she needs to meet, well, potential partners. She should go out.”

That made sense to Anne. She could feel herself nodding. Of course Chloe should go out. Maybe meet a potential girlfriend. Why not? There must be plenty of bars and clubs in the city where Chloe could find someone. And if that made Chloe comfortable with herself, and easier to work with, so much the better, but what did it have to do with her and Charlotte?

Charlotte asked the question Anne was wanting to voce, before Anne could work out how to form a sentence, “I think that’s a great idea. Umm, but what does that have to do with us?”

“Well,” Simon drew out the word, “I don’t think Chloe’s quite ready to go by herself. And if she went with someone, it might look like they were a couple, and that would make it hard for Chloe to, hmm, hook up with someone else.” Anne could see one of Simon’s eyebrows raise as he played with the colloquialism. “But if she went with another couple, or two other women pretending to be a couple.” He stopped there, letting the idea hang in the air.

Anne felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked from her lungs. Was Simon saying what she thought he was saying? That, that she and Charlotte, that they should go to a, a, well a place where, well, people like Chloe, a umm, well, a bar or club or something, for umm, gay women, err. The word was pushing itself to the front of Anne’s mind. She struggled, resisted. She tried to avoid, it hide. But it wouldn’t go away. A , a place where lesbians went. That she and Charlotte should pretend to be a lesbian couple.

Anne knew that something was going to happen if she didn’t start breathing soon. But she couldn’t make herself. Part of her was caught by the idea, fascinated, enraptured. Part of her was horrified. Charlotte would never agree. And if she did, Anne knew that it would be torture. She’d have to pretend to be with Charlotte. To be Charlotte’s partner, Charlotte’s lover, to be someone who made love to Charlotte. She’d have to pretend to all that, which she wanted so much, and not actually be it. Would they have to hold hands? Kiss? Have their arms around each other? Anne shrank in her chair. If she did that, would she realise where the boundaries were? Would she remember that Charlotte was only pretending? Would she be able to stop herself before she did something that would make Charlotte hate her forever? The thought of Charlotte hating her made Anne want to cry. She was starting to feel faint. She wasn’t sure how long it was since she’d last drawn a breath.

Then the air rushed in, a great heaving gasp, as she heard Charlotte say, “I think that’d be a great idea, what do you think Anne?”

To Be Continued