Chapter One

 

We had a nice little gig going. I'll be the first to admit it. We were well-paid, had great benefits, and very loose supervision. The work wasn't the most exciting, admittedly, but there's a lot worse than being a clerk in the State Department's New York office. We were in a corner of the floor together, six or seven clerks doing administration. The corner office was empty and used for occasional summer students or interns, so the nearest manager was some distance up the aisle. Our own manager was one of those drones nearing retirement who didn't care about anything so long as no one caused him trouble. In fact, he was "in charge" only in the sense that administration was under him, but he paid us little mind. He had other duties.

When I was first hired I was the youngest guy there, by far. Most of the others were old women. In fact, most of the floor is made up of kind of overweight, middle-aged people doing mid-level bureaucratic jobs for the State Department. I didn't even really know what they did, and to be honest, didn't really care a whole lot. I had my thing and they had theirs. Granted, theirs paid a whole lot better, but I was making enough to get by.

Anyway, not long after I was hired the manager quit and they brought in a new guy determined to improve our efficiency. He was kind of a dick, and he made life unpleasant for everyone. Half the group left, and then his contract didn't get picked up. The guy who took over was called Barry. He was about forty, and very obviously a player. And he and I would talk, in his office, about girls, and some of the things he'd done.

I wasn't surprised when he started hiring new people. That was a necessity given the ones who'd left. But the first two he hired really caught my eyes. One was Tammy, a twenty-one year old streaked-blonde bombshell with big boobs she didn't mind showing off. The other was Kara, a couple of years older, a sleek redhead with long, wavy hair that tumbled down her back. I knew Barry had the hots for Kara because he'd told me about his redhead fantasies. I, of course, set my sights on the blonde.

Tammy, I quickly came to understand, was smart, in her own way, but shallow as a creek. She was fun, but you couldn't talk to her about much more than herself, and the typical girl shit; fashion, makeup, Hollywood and reality TV. She was a real self-promoter, and she was the only woman in the building I knew who would make sure that her tops were always tight, and always showed a little cleavage.

It was hard to tell, though, how much she was doing on purpose. She always put on the act, you know, like she didn't want people staring at her chest, but this girl was 38D cup and she wore tight tops almost every day. You couldn't miss them, especially with cleavage. And when she was sitting, and you were looking down at her, well, it was hard to keep your eyes from zooming into that cleavage - which expanded whenever she leaned forward a little.

The girls have always liked me. I kind of get them, and know how to talk to them without bullshit. Plus I'm six feet tall and have kind of a pretty face. That used to piss me off when the guys would make fun of me, but you know, the girls are more what I care about, and Tammy was no different from the rest, flirty and coy right from the beginning. We used to play games on each other, tossing paperclips and rubber bands across the tops of our cubicles, stealing and relocating stuff from each others office, even sending confusing emails to people on each others computers if we forgot to lock them.

Yeah, it was a strange office, but we were our own separate little group and nobody much cared what we did. We took long lunches, sometimes at a nearby bar, and had lots of time to wander back and forth to each others cubicles and chat.

Tammy was a playful girl, and she liked to play jokes on me; everything from stealing my chair to pinching me in meetings. So anyway, one day I was in a narrow hall grabbing some files from a cabinet, and she asks me what I'm doing, then thrust her hand in against my chest, grabs my nipple and pinches it as she leaps away. "Nipple twist!" she cried gleefully.

Knowing her by then I had been semi-ready for something, though, and lashed out with my open hand, cracking it across her jeans-clad ass before she could get out of reach. She yelped and leapt forward, and she was rubbing her butt when she came down.

"Oww!" she said, giving me a look which was half amused, half outraged.

"It's not like I can pinch your nipples," I said with a grin. "Or can I?"

She snorted and pranced away. But I knew that physical touch moves a relationship closer, and like I said, Tammy was the playful, high-spirited type.. So later, I wander over to her desk.

Now I should mention the layout. It's all cubicles. Some of the cubicles have low walls, and some have high walls. Mine has high walls and a little angled panel at the doorway so that you can't really see me at the desk until you step inside. Tammy was in a smaller cubicle with a low wall, and her desk faced it. Needless to say, Barry had made sure of this. So if you went to the cubicle wall and leaned on it, you'd be leaning over her desk looking down her shirt.

It was becoming a popular place to hang out.

So later I wandered over there, and leaned over, and Tammy is wearing a scoop neck shirt which, because of the weight of her breasts, pulled down somewhat as she leaned forward over her desk. She looked up as I leaned o the top of the cubicle.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey, beautiful," I said. "Working hard?"

And as I asked it I tossed a paperclip at her. Now we'd done that a lot before, but I had too good an angle this time, and dropped it neatly into her cleavage.

"Jon!" she gasped, eyes sparkling while she tried to pretend she was outraged.

She turned away, fishing the paperclip out of her cleavage and I grinned at her. When she turned around I had a handful and tossed them at it again.

'Jon!' she said, more loudly, half laughing, half exasperated.

She turned and had to kind of bend over to scoop them out, and I shook my head at the sight of her thong sliding into view out the top of her jeans.

"Purple is a very nice choice," I said.

She turned around and I grinned "Nice thong, Blondie," I taunted her.

Then I wandered away - knowing she would feel the need to do something bratty to even things out... I kept watch, and even wandered away from my office so she could see. I waited, and she scurried across and into it, and I grinned and quietly followed her in. She was already sitting at my desk, typing an email on my computer - supposedly from me - to Barry.

"I think that's enough of that," I said, startling her.

I grabbed her by the hair - firmly but not roughly, and slowly pulled her up from my chair.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Jon~" she gasped.

"Maybe I should report you to security for breaking into my computer," I purred.

"Oh right, like you don't do it all the time. Let me go!" she complained.

But she wasn't exactly struggling. Her hands had shot up behind her neck where I had hold of her hair and were trying to pry my fingers off her, but she wasn't having much luck. In fact, I quickly grabbed her wrist, pinned them together there with one hand, and then got her hair in against it so I could half turn her and still hold her head back.

'Jooooon!" she complained a little breathlessly.

"Or maybe I should punish you myself," I teased. "Hmmm."

She rolled her eyes up at me and I could tell she was excited and feeling mischievous. The way her arms were up and back had raised her shirt up enough to bare some belly, and I took advantage, sliding my hand in there to caress her soft skin.

"Maybe I should give you a pink belly," I said.

"Don't you dare!" she gasped.

I pulled a little harder and she winced, her back arching a little more.

"Now isn't this a nice sight," I said. "I hope the buttons on this shirt don't break, Tammy."

"Bastard," she whispered breathlessly.

I was stroking her belly, just above her belt line, but now I began to stroke higher - still nowhere near her chest, of course, just rubbing the smooth, soft, warm skin of her stomach.

"Jon! Someone will come!" she gasped.

I put my lips next to her ear. "I'm nowhere near ready to come yet. Are you?"

She let out a bark of laughter and then winced again as I used my grip on hair and wrists to pull upwards, forcing her to rise onto the balls of her feet and balance there awkwardly. "Jon!" she whined.

"So how should I punish you? You are a bad girl, after all. Bad girls should be punished."

"You wouldn't dare!" she gasped.

"Oh wouldn't I? What wouldn't I dare, Tammy?"

I let my lips trace along the exposed nape of her neck, then kind of softly bit her while growling. I could see her nipples poking out against the fabric of her top.

"Are you willing to apologize?" I asked reasonably.

"I'm sorry!" she panted.

"On your knees?"

"What!?"

I grinned and then used my grip on her hair and wrists to force her down to her knees.

My desk faces the south wall of the cubicle. The doorway is on the south just to the right of my desk. Because of the cross panel, no one walking by can actually see what's going on there unless they actually step into the cubicle. So even if someone walked by they'd have no reason to suspect anything was going on. I was holding Tammy on her knees, her back arched, her head back, and now moved to stand right in front of her so that as I eased her face forward my crotch was directly in front of it.