Randy Howard - The secretary_s hot pants

Cindy sat up, angry; what was the matter with them? One jump, two, and they were finished – and they called themselves men!

Oh! She was covered with cum, her ass and her legs sticky. George went to the locker, opening it and bringing her clothes. She stood up.

"I can't go upstairs like this!"

"Oh, I dunno." He grinned. "You'll get all the fuckin' you can stand if you do!"

"I can't!" she said. Horny she might be, but she wasn't going to make a public spectacle of herself!

"Yeah, I s'pose not. You can clean up in there, Missy – there's soap an' towels an' everything."

"There" was a small john with a sink that was crusted with dirt despite the open can of Comet sitting on the back of it. A peeling mirror was over the basin, and Cindy grimaced as she picked up the dirty cake of soap. She ran water over it until he was clean; at least the towels were in decent shape. She began repairing the damage to her body, at least cleaning her crotch and ass. Then she washed her face in cold water, trying to reduce the flush.

George was still in the same position when she came out, his eyes staring at her nakedness. The heat was gone from her crotch now; Cindy flushed under his blatant eyes, and quickly began to dress. Her skirt and blouse were wrinkled from his mishandling, although they began to shake out quickly enough. But the hard shape of the bra ached against the tender nipples, and for a moment she debated leaving it off.

No. That would draw more attention to her – people would know that she had been engaged in sexual adventures, and that would never do. It was bad enough that George and the driver knew… She adjusted her clothing, wishing that she had her panties back – wishing that she had her virginity back. To lose it to someone as gross as Gabe was almost too much to bear!

Although it had felt wonderful!

George smiled. "Ya want my address, Missy?"

"No!" She blushed. "Uh – I was not in control of my senses, George. I hope you realize I didn't mean all those things."

"Yeah, you was hot, all right!"

"This-this is the end of the matter, George!" she said, firmly. "You've had your pleasure, but if you ever come near me again I'll tell Mr. Fleckheimer!"

George rubbed his crotch, grinning and with as much dignity as she could muster to the stairs. The janitor followed without saying anything more, watching as she climbed the first flight. She tugged at her skirt, feeling his burning gaze against the insides of her thighs… Oh, God! What was the matter with her? Decent girls didn't throw themselves at men just because they were sexually aroused – did they?

Maybe they did… Her thoughts were turning to the pleasure of the fucking again, the wonderful sensation as the cocks had plowed into her. She could feel the ache coming back into her groin, the feeling of emptiness in her female passage. Oh, God! She did want it, she needed it… All right, Cindy! So you've been fucked! It will happen again, at the right time and in the right place! Stop thinking of cock, start thinking of your job – if you expect to have your job after today!

How long had she been gone? It must be at least an hour since she first opened the door to the stockroom. She came off the stain and moved through the double doors, and a moment later passed the stockroom. The door was open, the lights on; for a moment she thought of going in, retrieving her panties before anyone discovered them. God, were they the ones with her name embroidered across the ass? She couldn't remember!

She started to go in, then saw Zeke; his back was turned, and he didn't notice as she backed out again, continued hurriedly to her office. The door to Larry's office was closed – and then she saw the two notes stuck into her typewriter. She grabbed them out quickly, her fingers trembling.

Cindy… Called out of the office. If anyone important calls, I'll be in about eleven tomorrow.

Larry He had left for the day; Larry didn't even know she had been away from her desk. Breathing a long sigh of relief, Cindy sat down in her chair, her knees suddenly weak. She smoothed her skirt again, glancing at the small digital clock: it said 3:51. An hour and nine minutes more and she could escape, go home.

The phone rang, startling her. She fumbled as she picked it up, nearly dropping the receiver.

"Mr. Jordan's office?"

"Cindy?"

"Oh, Mom!" God, did she know? But that was silly – of course she didn't know! "What's up?"

"Your father's grandmother has had another stroke, Cindy. We're going to fly to Cincinnati tonight – I have to leave now to pick him up. You don't want to come, do you? It looks as though it won't be long before she goes."

Cindy suppressed a small shudder; the thought of dying, of funerals, was unbearable. "Is Jack going?"

"No, dear. He'll stay with Gordy, unless you're going to be home. Then he can stay here, of course."

"I'll stay home, too, Mom. You and Dad have a – well, I guess I can't say have a good flight. But you know what I mean."

"Yes, dear. We'll call you from Cincinnati."

Cindy hung up, feeling both guilty and relieved to know she wouldn't have to be part of the death watch. Christ, how old was the old lady – ninety? Close to it, anyway. She was just as glad to be alone with Jack.

Jack had a nice cock!

What was the matter with her? Get your thoughts out of the gutter, girl! You it not going to fuck your own kid brother – that's incest!

Besides, Jack is probably a virgin, just like you were!

But wouldn't it be fun to take his cherry? If boys have cherries, that is. They called it the same thing, even though they didn't have a hymen to lose.

Her fingers were rubbing the other note, and now she glanced at it, immediately recognizing the prissy, perfect penmanship.

Miss Cox… See me immediately.

J. Fleckheimer Jasper Fleckheimer, the office manager and official male old maid. Cindy closed her eyes, smiling as she saw him tugging his neat pin-striped vest into proper position. Jasper always reminded her of Gale Gordon, although Fleckheimer had never been known to smile. His mouth was always pursed, as though he had just sucked on a lemon. Well, shit – better see what the old fart wants and get it over with!

The office manager's office was in the corner, on the inside wall where Jasper got the benefits of no windows at all. Miss Daley, his prune-faced secretary, was absent from her desk when Cindy reached the door. She didn't want to go in there, but she raised her knuckles and knocked.

"Come in!"

Jasper was seated at his desk, reading a file folder. He glanced up as Cindy came in.

"Ah, Miss Cox. You've been with us seven months now, is that correct?"

His finger tapped the folder, and Cindy realized that it was her own employment record. She nodded, wondering what was happening – was he mad because she had been away from her desk so long?

"You're behavior has been exemplary," said Fleckheimer, leaning back. "Your supervisors have given you glowing recommendations, Miss Cox."

"Uh, that's nice to know, Mr. Fleckheimer."

"Yes, until today there has been every expectation on our part that you would go far with the company, Miss Cox. Until today…"

His eyes stared coldly, and Cindy was reminded of a dead fish. She felt a hollowness in her stomach, but squared her shoulders.

"Uh, Mr. Fleckheimer, if it's about the time I was away from my desk, I can explain…"

"I'm sure you can." He opened a drawer and brought out a crumpled wisp of pale-blue fabric, dropping it on top of the folder. "I believe these are yours, Miss Cox."

"No!" Cindy's eyes widened in horror, and her thighs clutched together. "Na – they're not!"

"They have been identified, Miss Cox." He was smoothing them out now, spreading them until she could see the embroidery on the seat: "Cindy".