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My Executive Assistant
"After the long day we've had, I feel like taking a swim and plopping myself in the whirlpool for a while," I sighed deeply to Kate, my executive assistant.
We had just stepped into the hotel elevator and were heading up toward the third floor. My back was sore from the five-hour drive to Chicago and setting up our trade show booth all afternoon. I was looking forward to a quiet dinner and an evening of rest and relaxation before dealing with the deluge of sales prospects the next day.
"That sounds like a great idea," Kate replied with a flirtatious smile that always dazzled me senseless. She punched the fifth floor button. "Why don't you give me a few minutes to get ready and then stop by my room on your way and pick me up?"
"Uh, yeah, Sure. I can do that," I said stumbling over my words and train of thought. It didn't matter what she said to me, I always felt like such a klutz around her. And the thought of spending even a few minutes with her in a Jacuzzi was enough to make me tongue-tied.
"Room 545," she whispered as the elevator door opened up.
"See you later," I nodded stepping out.
I looked back to see her give me another warm smile with her full pink lips that never seemed to need any lipstick or gloss. Her clear, light-blue eyes twinkled as she shook her soft thick amber hair back from her face and behind her narrow shoulders. After the door closed I was still standing in the hall taking in the scent of her perfume. I smiled to myself as I walked to my room, my thoughts full of Kate, sweet Kate, my Kate.
She had come to work with us over a year before as a receptionist. I remembered fully the day that the HR director brought her around for introductions. She had boldly reached her hand out for a shake and I remembered her firm grasp, the soft skin, the smell of her perfume, and the angelic face that smiled broadly. I remembered thinking that she was the most beautiful girl who had ever passed through the door at NuVent Technologies. Five and a half feet tall with a heart shaped face and a heart shaped butt, firm, round breasts and a pair of long legs that always showed so well in even the most modest business suits and skirts that she normally wore. She was the kind of young woman who always wanted to be my friend, but who would never go for me as a boyfriend or lover.
As time went on, there were chance meetings with her in the break room, or maybe a brief chat at the front desk as I waited for my faxes to go through. We shared a few stray moments in the hallway chatting superficially and occasional minutes by the coffee pot in deeper conversation. As the weeks passed by, I found out that although she was living with a guy, she wasn't real happy. She was from a rural farming community up north. I also learned that we both liked all kinds of music except real hurting Country and warbling Opera.
Although she seemed to get along with everyone, she once commented that the other women didn't seem to like her too much. They were civil and friendly, but no one had asked her to do anything outside of work, and jealously guarded their boyfriends at the company Christmas party, even though her boyfriend was clearly present. You can imagine my surprise and pleasure when my long-time assistant went on maternity leave and Kate asked to interview for the job. As the HR Director and I sat in the large conference room, she presented herself so professionally that I almost forgot about how hard it would be to work with such a beautiful young woman. But I was determined to do so and pleased with the way she stepped in and took on every work assignment I handed her.
As Sales and Marketing Manager, one of my responsibilities was organizing trade show appearances. Seeing it as something of a test for her, I assigned responsibility for making arrangements to Kate. She did a wonderful job of securing the booth, designing the layout, ordering signage, furniture and utilities. She took the ball and ran the whole ninety-nine yards, which I appreciated since I could spend more time working with our customers. Soon after, I began to hand over many of the other marketing duties, designing and placing ads, working up brochures and flyers, even setting up and hosting training classes for employees and customers.
She was such a hard worker that I rarely found myself distracted by the sway of her round hips, the jiggle of her firm breasts, or the scent of her perfume. There were just a few times I caught myself staring, like when she would bring something into my office for approval and lean over my desk. Her blouse would open slightly, just enough to show how her lacy bra was barely able to restrain her gorgeous breasts.
There was the time in the middle of winter when I had stepped up to send a fax as she was coming in after hanging up her coat. The sight of her as she paused for a moment to raise her arms up to pin her amber hair back behind her ears turned me into a statue, especially since her nipples were standing out against the soft plush of her sweater because of the cold weather. She must have known why I was standing there for that minute or two, so speechless. But she took her time pinning her hair back, her light blue eyes looking straight into mine, her sweet sexy body an absolute turn-on.
Then there was the time when I had stumbled into her office unannounced and saw her with a leg up on her chair as she was pulling up and straightening the sheer stocking top on her exquisite leg. The sight of her tugging at the lacy stocking top and the brief glimpse of her supple thigh and the dark panties above gave me an instant hard on that I had to hide behind the manila folder in my trembling hands. When I cleared my throat and looked down, my cheeks blazing red with embarrassment, she looked over at first startled, but then with a smile as she brought her leg down and let her skirt fall back into place.
"Sorry," she said with a laugh. "I didn't mean to embarrass you, but I guess I have that effect on men sometimes."
I babbled on about how I didn't mind and that I wasn't there long enough to see anything. She just smiled at my lie as if to acknowledge that she had my number. But she never seemed to take advantage of it and as the weeks melted away we were always perfectly professional around the office. A week or two later, I was in the lunchroom talking with Peter, the Controller, who was one of my best buddies at work. Peter was our token frustrated married man whose wife had cooled down a lot in the years since they were married. He had bought her a sexy little outfit for their anniversary and she had refused to wear it for him.
"So she wouldn't even try it on?" I asked.
"No way, no how!" he replied. "It's not like it was really nasty or anything, you know crotch-less or cup-less or something like that. She's still got her figure and all, and to be honest would look pretty hot in it. But no way would she even try it on."
"That's sad, Pete," I replied, patting him on the back. "And one reason why you won't hear about me getting married again."
Just then Kate come in to refill her coffee cup.
"Why so sad?" she asked as she poured out a cup.
"Pete's wife won't dress up for him," I said.
“What do you mean? Most girls like to dress up,” she commented.
“Well, in my case it’s more a matter of not dressing down,” Pete lamented.
"Oh, I see what you mean,” she said with a warm smile and her cheeks blushing a bit. Kate stirred a touch of cream and two sugars into her cup. “Well, not that he would, the pissy way he's been acting lately, but if my guy brought home gobs of lingerie, I'd try it on for him. You know, give him a little show."
Peter and I looked at each other in amazement, both of us simultaneously forming a mental picture of the event.
"Powder blue," I said.
"No," Pete replied. "It'd have to be black."
"What?" she asked, taking a sip of coffee.
"Blonde girl," Pete said. "It would have to be black."
"Oh, I get it," she said, reaching up to let her fingers glide across Peter's cheek as she passed by on the way back to her office. "Wouldn't you just die to know?"
Peter slapped his palm on the counter top as she swiveled her lovely heart-shaped ass through the doorway. Her slacks were just tight enough to show off the perfect symmetrical curves of her butt.
"Two words for you, Pete," I said, following in her wake. "Thong panties."
Peter bent over and groaned as if in deep pain. For the next hour it took much more concentration than normal for me to go about my business without imagining sweet young Kate in a delightful light-blue or black lingerie ensemble. And for the next couple of days, it set up a running joke. When Peter and I would pass each other in the hallway, one or the other would say just one word like "black", or "blue", or "white", and the other would crack up. At one point, Kate had paused in the doorway to her office to let us pass by, and caught on to our juvenile banter.
"By the way, fellas," she said with a sexy smile, loud enough for only the two of us to hear. "I'm partial to blue and wear only thongs."
Of course that brought both of us to stop in our tracks and watch as she walked past us toward the graphic art department.
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