The Quiet One

Monday morning in the office. Cleo is at her desk and already working assiduously when her two colleagues, Julie, and Kelly, arrive. Late as usual, with a perfunctory nod of greeting, they go straight to the adjacent kitchen to make coffee and gossip.

"Good weekend, babe."

"Brill, went clubbing."

"We partied at home. Know what I mean?"

"Not like Ms. Mouse in the corner, I'm guessing."

I can hear you, thinks Cleo, keeping schtum; but won't let on, it's much more interesting to eavesdrop.

In fact, her weekend had been far from either ordinary or boring. 'Ms. Mouse' isn't wide of the mark though, concedes Cleo, given her deliberately dull office attire. Chosen to both fade into the background and avoid fashion faux pas like Julie's all-too-revealing hemline; she really shouldn't wear that skirt with such a substantial arse. And as for Kelly, nails like talons, more slap than a plasterer, and no way a real blonde. Enough bitchy observations, Cleo's thoughts turn to recent memorable events...

You'll do very well, was her first impression upon meeting Miles at the exhibition. Unusually, his real-life good looks matched the head and shoulders shot on his online profile; business just might be a pleasure. Miles was equally impressed with Cleo and so, in her opinion, he bloody well should be. She put a lot of effort into looking classily sexy - the trick being to suggest, not flaunt her charms. A flattering dress and underneath - although he didn't yet know - silky lingerie and black stockings. The latter is rather a cliche it's true, but Cleo has yet to meet a man resistant to their allure. If anything signalled the intended outcome of this assignation, it was the killer combination of nylons and heels.

Linking arms, they viewed paintings and sculptures, exchanged polite nods with other gallery visitors but kept to themselves. Miles inhaled a subtle hint of Chanel No. 5, redolent with erotic promise, while Cleo was thrilled at the proximity of a trim male body in an expensive bespoke suit.

"Quick in here, there's something else you'll want to see," said Cleo, dragging her date into a discreet alcove. The building, a modernist masterpiece, is notorious for visitors getting lost, fortunately, she knows it well.

Pulling him from the line of sight of any passer-by, Cleo crouched, revealing unambiguously what was beneath her dress. Caressing his crotch, she felt Mile's manhood become instantly erect, freed his impressively proportioned penis, and enveloped it with her mouth. Flicked her tongue around the bell end, one hand cradling his balls, the other encircling the shaft. Caught unawares, Miles was astonished and ecstatic as, with practised skill, Cleo took his straining cock ever deeper before teasingly lifting her head. Smiled at his look of disappointment. "Don't fret darling man, I'm not finished yet." Reached to undo a zip and shimmied down the top of her dress, scooped her tits from a half-cut bra, and enfolded his pulsing prick with her cleavage. "Who's a lucky boy," Cleo murmured rhetorically, arching an eyebrow, "a BJ and a tit fuck on a first date." Lost to the throes of lust, Mile's excitement approached a predictably messy conclusion. Opening her mouth into a wide O, Cleo encompassed his entire cock, adeptly swallowing his outpouring lot before salaciously licking her lips.

"Better put this away for a moment," she sighed regretfully, zipping up his limp member. "Make sure you're good to go again soon though, we're far from done yet."

Back in the office, another coffee break, and another natter in the kitchen. As usual, Cleo is excluded.

"So, this club..." enquires Kelly.

Julie's face clouds at the recall, and she lowers her voice.

"To be honest not so great. Drinks cost a fortune and it was too loud to talk. We went back to his place."

"Bet you were hot to trot," Kelly enquires, eager for details.

"I was, unfortunately, the idiot couldn't hold his booze. Pawing isn't my idea of foreplay and after lying drunkenly on top he only managed a few pathetic thrusts and then fell asleep. Still, your cosy twosome at home sounds nice."

"No luck for me either, " Kelly admits ruefully. "Him 'cooking a romantic dinner' was microwaving a frozen meal and every expense spared on the wine. I'm dolled up and giving all the signals, the man child just wanted to play his latest computer game. Not sure he even noticed when I left. Pity he forgot the candles; would've come in handy to relieve my frustration."

"Oh well," says Julie, grasping at straws, "I bet Ms. Mouse didn't get any either."

"Probably at home watching Friends reruns," sniggers Kelly, unable to resist a putdown.

Oh, but she did get some. For Cleo 'back to his' was a penthouse flat in a sought-after part of town. The wine excellent, the mood music subdued, and Miles just the right amount of 'not a complete gentleman'. Clenching her thighs, she mentally replays the scene.

"You are," he'd observed, "a delightfully naughty woman, we could have been caught in flagrante delicto back there."

"I'll assume that's a compliment," replied Cleo, "and if I'm such a bad girl you'd better punish me." Less a suggestion than a demand. Unbidden she clambered face down over his knees, rendering Miles momentarily dumbfounded, unused to a woman initiating a spanking, more accustomed to explaining he isn't, "some kind of perve".

"Well come on," Cleo tugged up her dress to reveal a perfect peach of a bottom. Spurred into action at the baring of this delectable derriere, Miles tugged Cleo's skimpy knickers down to her stocking tops, enjoying her subsequent wriggles and squeals as his palm turned the two pale moons a radiant pink. Slid a hand between her thighs and teased Cleo's engorged clit.

"I think I owe you one for earlier," he said, simultaneously spanking her bum while frigging Cleo's glistening pussy. Hips bucking, fingers clawing at the cushions she came. Took a moment to recover then stripped off her clothes to pose provocatively in front of Miles in just stockings and heels.

"Time to free Willie," Cleo murmured, straddling him, and lowered herself carefully onto Mile's rigid rod, sliding her shaven haven the length of his cock. "Where did you get those strong forearms?"

"Rowing," replied Miles, too busy concentrating on keeping pace with his demanding lover to chat.

"Good for stamina," she observed enthusiastically. I'm going to need it, thought Miles, Cleo's incorrigible, and possessed of a rampant sexual appetite. "Feel good, doesn't it?" she continued, watching him thrust into her velvety pussy. "How about something even better?" What, Miles wondered, could outshine such sublime sensations? Cleo anticipated the unspoken question.

"Bet you'd like to put your lovely cock up my ass?"

Would he! She lifted herself off, dipped two digits into her honeypot and smeared the juices around her hidden treasure. Carefully engaged his cock against her rosebud and slowly eased the tip in. Miles lunged eagerly, Cleo staying him with a hand on his chest.

"Steady tiger, it's tight up there, we're going at my speed." Slowly, inch by inch, Cleo impaled her ass on his pulsing penis, initial discomfort transmuting into a delicious feeling of fullness. As his cock stretched her bum, Cleo slipped a finger into her pussy and grinned wolfishly. "Okay big boy, now you can fuck my bottom. Gently though, forget what you've seen in porno movies. I get to enjoy this too." Her breathing became laboured, chest and face flushing as Cleo uttered a series of gasps and moans, busily frigging her pussy. Miles felt his climax coming, impossible to hold back.

"Yes, yes, fucking yes." Cleo surrendered to an intense orgasm and the pair collapsed, dishevelled, and satiated. Better yet, Ms. Mouse not only had a wonderful time, she was £500 richer.

Cleo wriggles in her chair, clenching against the arousing pressure of the butt plug beneath her non-descript clothes, keeping her libido simmering. Another couple of weekends like that last one, a further few weeks in this soul-crushing office and she'll have sufficient funds to travel; Costa Rica beckons. Surprised by Cleo's abrupt departure, her boss will belatedly discover who did most of the work in the office. Miles will blissfully recall their exploits, and Cleo's work colleagues will be confused and envious. She'll make sure to send them a postcard, signed 'Ms. Mouse'.