The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

CARLOTTA’S COLOURFUL CHRISTMAS

by Downing Street

PART II

Back in her office the next morning, Carlotta pondered her mood. She always had trouble dealing with Christmas. How else could her new red dress be explained? She wasn’t given to whims like that.

The stretch-fit minidress certainly did flatter her figure. Carlotta’s figure was worth flattering. She had garnered a good deal of attention when she walked into the office that morning. One of the senior partners had politely hinted that the firm favoured more conservative styles. Carlotta had improvised something about not wanting to change for a party later. She watched his eyes flick down to the swell of her bust as he talked.

The dark-haired lawyer set down the papers she was working on. She wasn’t certain why she had decided to wear this dress to the office. The conservative suits in her closet were boring. She crossed her knees idly, watching the hem slide up her nylon-covered thighs. Hadn’t she lectured one of the paralegals about showing too much leg a couple of weeks ago?

Technically though, Carlotta reasoned, she wasn’t showing that much leg when you allowed for the boots. The day before, standing in the changing room at Biggerman’s, she had been surprised and delighted to see how fine she looked in the little red dress. Yet something bothered her. Her brand new slouch boots didn’t match the dress. Not exactly. Without really knowing what she was looking for, she had wandered off toward the shoe department.

Back in her office, Carlotta looked down at the glossy fashion boots on her legs. Her new boots were classic leather side-zips with pointy toes and narrow heels. Like her dress, they were warm, cheerful red.

This was so unlike her. The first pair had been expensive enough. She bit her lip. The combination of short dress and tight boots made her legs look terrific.

The excitement of her spontaneous shopping expedition, coupled with the long, longing looks from the taxi driver and her building doorman, kept Carlotta from dwelling on her impulsiveness. When she arrived at her flat and slipped out of her sexy dress, she discovered that her panties were damp. She explored the cause of that and soon decided, panting, that a relaxing few minutes on the bed was called for. Or maybe an hour.

That wasn’t like her either. But great balls of fire, did it feel good.

This morning, Carlotta the lawyer was a melee of conflicting emotions. She was still basking in vain satisfaction with her new outfit. It warred with her sensible, feminist side that argued she was wasting money and bending her principles. Thrown into the mix was irritation that she would have to visit Biggerman’s one more time to finish those stupid personnel files.

As she stepped carefully up the icy sidewalk toward the department store, Carlotta’s agile mind arrived at a hypothesis. She was sleep-deprived. That explained everything: her naps in front of the computer, her unsettled mood, her impulsive behaviour. She had been pushing herself hard lately. She would sleep in all this weekend; that should put things to rights.

Feeling better now that reason had prevailed, she pushed through the revolving doors into the store.

Biggerman’s was bustling, as usual. Carlotta was growing accustomed to the crowds. She made her way to the back of the store. She was determined to get up to the offices and get this business done with.

She did stop a few times, to look at dresses and some neat tights. She liked the ones in red. While she was using the mirrors by the changing rooms, she overheard another conversation. A rich-looking woman, aerobicized and tanned, was discussing fashions with a teenage girl in the uniform of an exclusive private school.

“Honey I can’t wear this,” the woman said.

“Come on Mom, if we both wore the same outfit to the party, we’d like, match!” The girl was bouncing up and down with excitement.

“Yes but I simply cannot wear this!”

“Why not? You look great in it Mom.”

“Why not! For one thing, it’s much too short. Even shorter than those things we bought last week! And this top, it’s. . . it’s made for someone. . . younger.”

“Hey, no way”, her daughter rejoined, “it’s made to fit everybody. See, the cups are built in. You just pull this up, like this, and then we tighten the back—”

“Whoa, not so tight!”

Her daughter fastened some hooks. “It’s supposed to be tight. Here, take a look Mom.” She spun her around to face a full-length mirror.

“Oh! My, that is. . . flattering, isn’t it dear. But I couldn’t—”

“Daddy will be there, Mom.”

“What?”

“At the party. He’ll be there with that other woman he’s taken up with. Don’t you want to let him know what’s he’s missing?”

“Fiona, really!”

“Every man in the room will want you, Mom. Daddy will see.” She was leaning over her mother’s shoulder, whispering in her ear.

The woman watched herself in the mirror. “I, I don’t think that’s. . . uhm. . .” She flexed a shapely ankle back and forth. A sly grin spread slowly across her face. “We’ll have to get the right shoes then, won’t we dear,” she told her daughter.

They were eagerly discussing accessories when Carlotta moved away.

Santa’s lounge had a good crowd of shoppers and loungers, all celebrating the Christmas spirit by downing Christmas spirits. Carlotta watched as a leggy elf-waitress stopped by a table to place another pint of bitters before a leering patron. She was wearing a top and shorts in deep red with white fur trim, along with patterned nylons and black boots.

Carlotta shook her head. Women like the waitress offended her. How could she work in that skimpy outfit, being ogled by every man in the place? It wasn’t becoming. It was

Red

There was something special about that outfit she was wearing. She watched the girl saunter away. Of course the shorts were much too short for—

Black

She did like the boots. The heels would be awful for someone who worked on her feet all

Black

Carlotta looked down at her own new boots. She liked them even more than her first new pair. Yet there was something subtly wrong with this outfit. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She seldom wore skirts at all, much less fashion boots. She continued on toward the elevator.

Biggerman was discussing something with Trina when Carlotta arrived at her cubicle. He was leaning over her shoulder, pointing to things on her screen. The conversation was punctuated by bashful giggles from Trina.

He looked up as Carlotta approached. She had a couple of packages in her hands. “Ah, Ms Exquisito,” he said, “how pleasant to see you again. Merry Christmas.” As he spoke his eyes roamed boldly up and down the young lawyer’s full curves. Carlotta was carrying her coat over one arm.

“Merry Christmas,” she said civilly, pulling her coat in front of her. Biggerman was taller than she remembered. He still needed a haircut—and a lesson in manners. “I haven’t quite finished copying all the employment records for the sacked workers. I’ll need to see the files one more time.”

Biggerman smiled. “Of course, of course,” he returned affably. “Trina will let you in, as before.” He clapped a hand possessively on the pretty secretary’s shoulder. Trina was wearing a tummy-bearing short sweater along with black hip-huggers. She still had a silly Christmas cap on her head.

She turned and smiled at Carlotta. “Come on, I’ll get you started. Are we all finished for now, Henry?”

“For the moment, yes. Better let Ms Exquisito onto the computer. Wouldn’t want her to slip into a black mood.”

Carlotta blinked. She felt flushed. She let her coat fall to her side. Let Biggerman stare. She was hardly showing more than all the miniskirted girls in the office.

“Have you found everything you need?” Biggerman asked, seeming concerned. Are the facilities adequate?”

“Uhm, yes, quite adequate,” Carlotta replied. “If I could get started I could finish this today.”

“Have some wine while you work,” Biggerman suggested. “I’ve put out a rather pleasant red.”

Carlotta felt her colour rising. The room was warm. She ran both hands down her hips, smoothing her snug-fitting minidress. She wished Biggerman would stop staring at her. It was distracting. And very pleasant.

“Th-thank you,” she said. She tried to ignore his gaze on her cleavage. “I’d breast get started.” She felt her nipples stiffen. Unconsciously, she straightened her back a little, thrusting her chest out. She was suddenly glad she had worn her sexy new dress.

Trina sprang to her feet. “Come on, I’ll let you in.”

Relieved and disappointed to be away from the owner’s attention, Carlotta fell in beside her. Trina’s tight black pants hung so low on her hips they threatened to reveal a second cleavage. They flared out long at the bottom to almost cover the silver platform sandals on her feet.

Sandals in winter? Carlotta wondered privately. That’s not very

Black

She found herself contemplating the sway of Trina’s behind beneath the low-hung pants. That girl sure is built, she thought admiringly. Little tingles ran up her spine.

Trina let her into the back room and signed on to the computer. Carlotta noticed that the bottle of red wine that Biggerman had mentioned was sitting on the table of treats, already opened. It was an excellent label.

“Henry asked me to open it early, to let it breath,” Trina explained, rising from the computer. “Sure you won’t have some?”

Carlotta looked at the bottle. The wine was a Burgundy. “No, I came here to . . .”

Red

“Oh, well, why not. It’s Christmas.”

“That’s the spirit,” Trina agreed. She found two tall wine glasses. Carlotta filled them both. “Merry Christmas!” Trina cheered. They clinked glasses and drank together.

“Well, I’d best get back to work,” the shapely secretary decided. “Let me know if you need anything.” She took her wine glass with her and headed out the door. Carlotta found herself watching her derriere again.

Pull yourself together girl, she chided herself. Stop being jealous of other women’s asses. She took a long drink, refilled her glass, and sat down before the computer. She popped a couple of liqueur-filled chocolates into her mouth. That’s probably not a good idea, along with the wine, she reflected, even as she sucked on her third candy. I have to stay alert today. No more sleeping on the job.

She bent down to work. The elevator music was as annoying as ever. She forced it out of her mind. She sipped her wine, carefully transcribing notes to her laptop. It was important to stay awake. She was determined not to fall asleep today.

No sleep today.

No. Sleep. Today.

Sleep. . .

She didn’t even notice when she dropped off.

There was something on her shoulder. She batted it away, but it came back. She turned her head and looked at it groggily. It was a hand, feminine and wearing many rings. “—lotta we’re closing now,” came Trina’s voice.

She looked up, shaking off sleep, to find the secretary bending over her. “What? Who? I was—oh, not again.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have had all that wine,” Trina suggested gently.

Carlotta looked over at the table of treats beside her chair. The wine bottle was more than half empty. Had she done that?

“I, I don’t quite remember,” she said weakly, getting to her feet. “What time is it?”

“It’s about five. We close the offices now. Course the store is still open for hours. Can you come back tomorrow?”

Carlotta’s brain felt fuzzy. She tried to remember something. It kept slipping away. Her gaze fell on the silly cap on Trina’s head, with its long red crown and white trim.

White

“Yes, uhm, I, I suppose I’ll have to,” she conceded. She closed up her laptop and picked up her packages. “I haven’t been very efficient these last couple of days.”

Trina waved a delicate hand. “Who is, this time of year. There is so much going on. What with parties and shopping and more parties, who has time to work?” She giggled prettily. “Hey, looks like you’ve done a little shopping yourself. Looks sweet.”

“Thank you,” Carlotta replied uncertainly. “This isn’t my usual style. I got caught up in the Christmas spirit—or something.”

“Hey, why don’t you leave your computer and stuff here? You’ll be coming back tomorrow, right? Why carry them all the way home and back again? They’ll be safe here.”

The lovely lawyer hesitated. “Uh, no, I probably should work this evening,” she began, “I have a lot of—”

White

“I, I have a lot of . . . oh why not.” She set down her computer and briefcase. She picked up her coat and the few things she had bought on the way in.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” Trina said cheerfully. “Maybe we can spend a few minutes doing some last-minute shopping.” She grabbed some candies from the table. Her low-riding slacks outlined the half-moon cheeks of her behind.

Carlotta demurred. “No, I really should get home, I—oh, thanks.” She accepted the chocolate that Trina offered. It was cherry.

The two women took the elevator down to the store level.

Late the following morning Carlotta was pacing about her office, too agitated to work. What was going on here? What was wrong with her? She had been asking herself these same questions all morning. She looked down at her feet for a moment as she paced back and forth on the carpet.

She was wearing new shoes. They were narrow pumps with tall heels. They had platform soles, more than an inch high. They were nothing like anything Carlotta wore, especially to work. The shoes were pure, glossy

White

They were the perfect colour. Carlotta loved them, loved what they did to her ankles, her legs. She had wanted them the moment she tried them on at Biggerman’s the day before. The fact that she had always considered high heels impractical, uncomfortable symbols of female subjugation simply didn’t matter.

Maybe the shoes were a cover. Maybe she was trying to distract herself from her sudden infatuation with boots. Maybe she didn’t want to face the odd fact that she had bought four pairs of expensive boots in three days.

She glanced over at the white boots sitting beside her desk. They were stretchy, vampy things with platform heels like her new shoes. She couldn’t decide between them and the patent black lace-ups. She had bought both pairs. Why had she done that? She didn’t need

White

They were sexy, sure, but why buy another

Black

She only knew that the long black boots were splendid and she couldn’t be without them.

Shoes and boots were not the only things Carlotta had fallen in love with. She had intended to indulge Trina’s shopping whim only for a few moments before heading home to dinner. In fact it had taken them several happy hours to get out of the store. With only a little encouragement from Trina, Carlotta had experimented with styles and fashions she had never considered before.

The wine she had evidently drunk instead of working didn’t help her self-control. Nor did the additional spirits they had shared in Santa’s lounge when the sexy secretary decreed that they needed a break. Carlotta had meant to abstain, but the cute red-and-white outfit on the waitress had distracted her.

Carlotta held her head in her hands for a moment. What had come over her yesterday? She shook back her hair. She could feel the weight of her new gold earrings. Another impulsive purchase.

She sat down in her chair. She was supposed to be drafting a letter to Biggerman’s former employees. She was in no mood to talk to clients today. How could she explain to the sacked women that not only had she not negotiated a settlement for them, she hadn’t even assembled the file? To make matters worse, she had foolishly left her briefcase behind, along with her laptop computer. All her notes for the case were locked up in Biggerman’s storage room.

The act of sitting down pulled the hem of her new dress even higher up her thighs. She ran a hand down one leg. She had no business wearing fishnet stockings to the office. This was entirely inappropriate. They were

Black

They contrasted so sharply with the white of her new shoes. Carlotta had never worn stockings before. The feel of the garter straps against her leg was a constant reminder that she was doing something a bit wicked. She felt a tingle up between her legs.

Trina helped Carlotta buy so many new things she had trouble carrying it all. Fortunately, Biggerman’s had a delivery service. The pretty clerk at the service desk talked her into opening a charge account too. Carlotta had been distracted. The girl’s halter-top was red with white trim, like her little miniskirt. Carlotta wasn’t even sure what her credit limit was.

Eventually Carlotta found herself in a taxicab taking her back to her flat. She was wearing one of her new outfits, a tiny black dress, saucy red nylons and her new black boots. It was the closest she had come yet to the perfect Christmas ensemble. Unexpectedly, the way the driver was appraising her in the rearview mirror was more exciting than annoying. She left her coat unbuttoned.

Sitting in her office, Carlotta stirred from the memory. She pressed her legs together. What the hell was happening to her libido? She had flirted shamelessly with the doorman at her building. She let him enjoy a good look down the gauzy top of her minidress. She took her overcoat off immediately, improving his view of her ass and red-stockinged legs as she sauntered away.

By the time she got to her flat, Carlotta was tingly all over. She threw her coat aside and unfastened her boots. Then she padded into the bedroom and wiggled out of her daring new dress. She looked at herself in the mirror. The red stockings were only part of a lacy red underwear set. She could see her erect nipples poking over the top of the half-cup bra.

It was too much. With a sigh the shapely lawyer reclined on her bed, one hand already slipping down to enjoy the warm, moist welcome that her pussy offered. The other hand found her breasts, and made them shiver. In a few minutes she was bucking and gasping helplessly. In a few minutes more she came. In another few minutes she came again. And again. And again.

Back in the office, Carlotta crossed her knees, pressing her thighs together. She had never felt so oversexed. Rising that morning, after yet another hand job in the shower, she couldn’t resist trying out one of the new outfits she had bought the day before. It was wildly inappropriate for the office, but she convinced herself that somehow Christmas made it all right. She couldn’t help smiling as she pulled on her stretchy white boots. She tossed her new shoes in a bag and headed off to work.

Her arrival was an event. Everyone she met stared in surprise. Men forgot what they were doing. Carlotta’s new dress was shiny red, set off with sparkly white snowflakes. Coupled with the black, fishnet nylons and white boots, the skimpy dress transformed Carlotta from stylish professional to Miss December from a very popular calendar. As she made her way down the corridor, still learning to balance on the outlandish heels, she could feel the admiring eyes locked onto her. She had barely set down her purse before a senior partner called her into his office.

It was Mr. Burnham, one of the few man she genuinely admired. He was fiftyish, with just a touch of grey around the temples, distinguished in his expensive silk suit. He began the conversation bluntly: “Carlotta—what the blazes are you doing! Coming in here dressed”—he gestured vaguely in her direction—“like that!”

Carlotta’s cheerful disposition wilted under her superior’s ire. “I, I uh, I don’t know, I guess I thought, uhm, it would be all right,” she responded lamely. “It’s like, for Christmas,” she added, as if that explained something.

Burnham was not impressed. “I don’t care if it’s the second coming! My god Carlotta, this is a law office. Have you lost your senses?”

He was looking her up and down as he spoke, disbelief apparent on his face. Did his eyes linger where her legs finally disappeared beneath the hem of her dress?

Carlotta was awash in conflicting emotions. She was mortified, standing before Burnham in her flashy outfit, being dressed down like a summer replacement who didn’t know the rules. Yet there was an undercurrent of sexual energy in the room. She felt like a lovestruck schoolgirl trying to win the attention of her favourite teacher.

“No, please, Mr. Burnham, it’s not like it seems,” Carlotta blurted, still trying to sort out her emotions. She took a step toward him. Her slinky mini telegraphed the sway of her hips. “You see, it’s almost Christmas, and I’ve been, uhm, doing a lot of thinking lately, and . . .” She had no idea what the end of the sentence was, or why she was still approaching Burnham like a stalking panther. His attention on her body was as stimulating as a hot shower.

Burnham took a half-step backwards. He raised a hand. “Carlotta, is this—”

Carlotta kissed him. She slid both arms around his neck, holding his head between her hands. The kiss was long, wet and ardent. She used her tongue, her lips, her body.

When she finally let him go they both gasped for breath. Burnham’s eyes were wide in shock. “M-Merry Christmas Mr. Burnham,” Carlotta whispered. Drawing a deep breath, she turned and hurried out of the office. She was steamy with arousal, and desperately afraid that she would do something foolish if she stayed. She rushed into her own office, closed the door and leaned against it, trying to cool down.

She had been hiding in her office ever since, too agitated to work, too embarrassed to leave. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting so irrational? It was like she was possessed by a demon of lust. This was more than psychological angst over the holiday season. It could hardly be sleep-deprivation either, as she had believed earlier—especially since she seemed to be napping every afternoon in front of Biggerman’s computer.

She stopped for a moment. Could there be a connection there? Her naturally quick mind assembled the facts: she had started acting strangely only after she had started her case against Biggerman’s Department Store; only after she began transcribing employment records from the store’s computer; only after she unexpectedly fell asleep every time. Biggerman had a degree in computer science. It was too much to be coincidence.

Biggerman had done something to the computer.

Brainwashing? Carlotta was familiar with the concept of subliminal suggestions, famously inserted in advertisements in the 1960s. She knew there were rumours that more powerful techniques had been quietly developed and researched over the intervening years. She had even scanned a few websites devoted to the idea of people controlling others with hypnotism and drugs. She had always dismissed such accounts as mere stories. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Perhaps Biggerman had inserted subliminal suggestions into the computer program. Maybe they ran in the background while Carlotta read the files. Maybe he was flashing commands across the screen too fast for her conscious mind to see—but not too fast for her unconscious mind to absorb. The suggestions would be associated with pleasure, to make them more readily accepted. The most powerful source of pleasure was sex.

It all fit together. The question now was, what to do about it. First, she needed to put a lid on her libido. The thought of wicked, subconscious thoughts being planted in her mind was itself exciting. Carlotta uncrossed her knees. She ran a finger along one leg, right at the edge of her high hemline. She was breathing quickly. If the intent of the subliminals was to make her constantly horny, they were working all too well.

Something had to be done about Biggerman. She couldn’t let him

Black

Damn but her legs looked fine in these stockings. Her fingers were still flitting along the edge of her dress. They were underneath the hemline now. She had to get a grip on herself before

Red

She adjusted her stocking clips as an excuse to keep her hands under her dress. Then they moved over to her mauve, French-cut panties, to see if they were really as wet as they looked. Trina had been amazed when Carlotta said she had never worn that style. She had about a dozen now.

The telephone warbled. Irritated, Carlotta pushed a button with her free hand. “Yes?”

“Ms Exquisito,” came the voice of her assistant, “Mrs. Bumwiggle from the Biggerman case is one the line. She wants to—”

“Tell her I’ll call her back later. I’m busy right now.”

“Are you sure? She says they’re just about to leave for Christmas holidays, and if you could—”

“I’ll call her back!” Carlotta snapped, and rang off.

Reluctantly, she brought her wandering hand to heel. She pulled down her dress. This had to stop. She couldn’t let Biggerman get away with his sleazy attempt at manipulation.

Still, she had no real evidence to bring against him. Her theory about subliminal seduction was so fantastic that no one would take it seriously without proof—and a sudden urge to jill off in the office wouldn’t do. Maybe she could smoke him out: she would confront him head-on with her suspicions and intimidate him into backing off. She smiled grimly. It was time to remind Biggerman that Carlotta had graduated fifth in her class.

The thought of visiting Biggerman’s Department Store again sent a little thrill through her. She ignored it. It was harder to ignore the warm contentment that enveloped her when she pulled on her white stretch boots. She threw on her coat, then spent a few minutes fussing with her hair and make-up before heading out onto the street.

So great was Carlotta’s resolve to confront Biggerman that she hardly stopped to buy anything on the trip through the ground-floor store. Instead, she asked a sales clerk to set aside a half dozen items so she could look at them later. She did buy a new pair of boots. White platform boots were too blatantly sexy for her meeting with Biggerman. Her new black booties were much more serious—except perhaps for the narrow, pointy toes, gold filigree decoration, and pencil-thin high heels whose impracticality for walking Carlotta discovered only after she had eagerly handed over her charge card.

The store office was as lively as ever. Cheerful Christmas tunes poured out of the speakers in the ceiling. Office workers in festive garb smiled and said hello as Carlotta wobbled down the hallway toward Biggerman’s office.

Trina was at her desk. The woman looked even more fetching than usual in a silver minidress and transparent platform slides with silver straps. Blonde hair tumbled down from beneath a red Christmas cap.

“Trina,” Carlotta said bluntly, “would you please start up the computer in the storage room. I have to finish those files today.”

“Of course, Carlotta,” Trina said good-naturedly. She got to her feet as Carlotta turned toward Biggerman’s office. “Oh, wait, you can’t—”

Carlotta burst into the office. “Biggerman, I want to talk to you. Now.”

Biggerman was sitting at his desk, working at his computer. He was taller than Carlotta remembered; better looking too. He would be quite presentable if he would just get a haircut. Carlotta would be happy to do the job herself. She could imagine standing over him with clippers and a comb, shaping and styling those unruly locks while she leaned over his chair in her abbreviated smock. . .

Biggerman said: “Ms Exquisito, how good to see you again. Please, come in. Have a seat.” His eyes roamed blatantly up and down her curvy figure.

Carlotta remained standing, though she would have been grateful to get off her unsteady heels. “Biggerman, I want you to know that I’m on to you. I don’t know how you are doing it and I don’t care. Whatever you are doing to that computer will cease immediately.”

“Uhm, excuse me?” He did a good job of looking nonplussed.

“The computer,” Carlotta explained. “The one that I have been using these past few days. You have done something to it, trying to influence my behaviour. Subliminal suggestions, I suspect.”

“What? Are you serious? Where did this idea come from? I think you need to calm down a bit. My word, you’re practically seeing red.”

A ripple of arousal swept through the young lawyer. “I, I don’t need to calm down,” she returned. “I need to complete our business without any underhanded skull-duggery on your part. There are embedded messages on that computer, aren’t there? You have been trying to throw me off balance.”

“Embedded messages? What an idea.” He chuckled softly. “Well, I guess you’ve caught me red-handed.”

This time the arousal was a wave of sweet desire breaking over her like a comber onto a Hawaiian beach. It was the same sensation she had felt in the law partner’s office, but even stronger. Blood rushed to her face, and other places. Damn that man for being so handsome!

“This is n-no joking matter,” Carlotta insisted. She swayed a little on her narrow heels. She could feel her nipples stiffening. “I know you’re doing, like something. You’re degree. . . computers . . . making me sleep.” She gestured vaguely.

“It sounds to me like you could use a little sleep,” Biggerman replied. “I’m having trouble following you. Can’t you just lay it out in black and white?”

Tsunami! Carlotta mewled out loud. Her knees buckled. She grabbed the back of a chair with both hands to keep from falling. “Please!” she cried out. “Stop the. . . computer thing. I, I need you—I mean I need to. . .” She shuddered with lust. Her pussy was lubricating.

Biggerman looked concerned. “Good heavens, Ms Exquisito, are you all right? You look pale. Do you need a drink?”

“I—” she gasped. “I. . . You. . . I, I want . . . need. . . I have to go!” She turned abruptly and nearly trotted out of the room, teetering comically. Biting her lip, she tripped across the office toward the back room.

The door was open. Trina was bending over the computer, signing in. Carlotta keened again at the sight of the blonde’s trim legs, decked out in satiny nylons, revealed to the edge of her silver panties by the scanty dress. Carlotta had never felt attraction toward women. Right now her pussy was too overheated to discriminate.

“Oh, there you are,” Trina said brightly, when she saw Carlotta. “You’re all set. Help yourself to anything on the table. There’s more—”

“Yes yes yes, that’s fine, now please, I have to get to work!” Carlotta interrupted her. She grabbed the secretary by the arm and dragged her to the door. Trina tried to say something else but Carlotta was already shutting the door in her face. She turned the lock. Then she threw herself down on the sofa, pulled down her wet panties, and used her fingers to feed her suddenly cock-starved pussy.

Relief was exquisite. “Ohhhhhhh, yes!” she cried out loud, “yes, yes, yes, fucking Yes!” She spread her legs until one bootie landed on the floor. She was using both hands now, spreading her labia with one while the other plunged into her needful cunt. “Biggerman, you sexy stud,” she wailed as her hips thrust upward. “Sexy handsome stud, sexy stud, fucking sexy stud, fucking stud fuck me senseless you sexy stud!” Then intelligible words became impossible as orgasmic bliss swept over her.

Some time later, Carlotta was sprawled limply on the deep sofa, basking in the glow of her second climax. She hummed along to a familiar tune playing on the overhead speakers. Reluctantly, she turned her attention to finishing transcribing the employment records from the computer. She straightened her clothing, after pulling her useless panties off completely.

Only then did she remember that she hadn’t resolved the issue of the subliminal messages. It wasn’t safe to use the computer until she knew for sure they were gone. She was too embarrassed to go see Biggerman again, after transforming into a bitch in heat in front of him. What to do?

She thought about it. She poured a glass of wine and took a big swallow. She still felt contentedly sluggish from the hand session. She helped herself to a couple of candies. They were both filled with liqueurs. She lifted one leg and admired her new bootie. She loved the way it shaped her calf. She adjusted a lace stocking lazily.

What to do about the computer? Carlotta refilled her wine glass. If she didn’t use the computer, how could she finish the case? She looked at the tray of chocolates, hesitated, then chose a piece of fruitcake instead. It was made the traditional way, steeped in brandy. If she did use the computer, she was convinced she would fall asleep again.

It was a conundrum. She needed to use the computer, but she certainly didn’t want to fall asleep again. She drank wine and nibbled fruitcake, snuggling deeper into the plush couch. She watched snowflakes drift downward outside the big window. She didn’t want to fall asleep again.

Snowflakes drifted down.

She didn’t want to fall asleep.

Snowflakes. Sleep.

Sleep.

Carlotta slept. The empty wine glass slipped out of her hand. Instrumental Christmas music streamed endlessly out of the speaker in the ceiling.

“Car-lawwwtt-ah,” a sweet voice sang. “Come on sleepyhead, wake up girl.”

Carlotta opened her eyes. She blinked. Trina was sitting on the edge of the sofa, looking down on her. “Looks like somebody was having a private party,” the secretary said.

Carlotta shook herself awake. “Trina, I, I’m so sorry. I must have, uhm, dozed off.” Her panties were lying on the floor beside the sofa. Something about Trina’s dress distracted her. It was

Silver

so terrifically sexy. The stretchy, abbreviated dress showed off her generous chest and splendid legs at the same time.

Trina brushed a bit of black hair off Carlotta’s face. “That’s okay, honey, you probably needed the rest. The rest of us been having a Christmas celebration in the office.” She giggled shyly. “I’m a little drunk.”

“Me too,” Carlotta replied. She didn’t remember drinking enough to feel this way. She was uncomfortably aware of the nearness of Trina as she sat beside her on the sofa. Her left leg was brushing against Carlotta’s hand. Worse, the way she was sitting, Carlotta could see right up under the hem of her dress. Her bikini panties were

Silver

the perfect complement to the dress. There was a saucy boldness about wearing panties that matched. It meant she knew she was going to be flashing them all day, and planned for it.

My god, she’s turning me on, Carlotta thought dimly. She tried to sit up. “I’d better be going,” she explained nervously.

Trina gently pushed her back down. “What’s your hurry? It’s well after five. Everyone else has gone home. There’s just you and me here.”

“Yes, but—”

“Shush. Here, have a candy. There, isn’t that delish? You know, you were in such a hurry earlier I never got the chance to tell you how much I love your new outfit.”

“Uhm, uh, th-thank you,” Carlotta replied, rallying weakly. “It’s really not what I normally wear. It’s too—

Red

“—it’s, uhm, I like it, but. . .”

“It’s divine, dear. It flatters you. You have such perfect legs.” She let one bejewelled finger slide up Carlotta’s thigh.

“Uhm, Trina, I, I think maybe we should, uhm—”

Red

“We should have our own little party,” Trina cooed, bending close. “Just you and me.” The finger reached the hem of Carlotta’s dress. It didn’t stop.

“No, wait, I, I don’t think this is—” Carlotta flailed about weakly. Her hand landed on Trina’s leg. It didn’t want to leave. Carlotta whined in heat and confusion. Trina’s nylons glittered with

Silver

The luscious lawyer shivered with lust. She was trembling. She couldn’t seem to stop the advance of Trina’s hand, or her own. Trina’s thigh felt warm beneath her fingers.

“Christmas is a time for sharing,” the busty secretary explained, leaning closer. “and loving.” Her hand crept still higher.

Carlotta was squirming. “I, I, I’m not sure we. . . we should. . . we . . . Ohhhhhhhh!” Trina’s questing fingers had discovered the absence of panties.

“Oh, baby! You are a sexy thing, aren’t you,” Trina whispered, before her descending lips met Carlotta’s in a firm and hungry kiss.

Carlotta returned the kiss, desperate for more. She had never felt any attraction to women before. Now Trina’s fingers were stroking artfully in and out of her seeping pussy, her tongue was dancing in her mouth, her big, sexy tits were rubbing against hers and sexual pleasure was pulsing and flashing in ever cell of Carlotta’s body.

The two women coupled rambunctiously on the big sofa, fighting off clothing, touching and stroking and kissing everywhere. Carlotta felt her peak approaching. She wiggled her hips in time with Trina’s eager pussy-lapping. She couldn’t remember when Trina’s tongue had replaced her fingers. “Oh god!” she cried out, stiffening. “oh god oh god oh god oh god Oh God Oh God OH GODDDDDDDDDD!”

A few minutes later, when Carlotta had stopped twitching, Trina slid back up to face her. Carlotta was damp with perspiration, out of breath. Her lover kissed her tenderly.

“Your turn,” she said.