Use What Ya Got

Sharisse, my supervisor, noticed the change in my attitude first. My three month long temp assignment at the processing department of a big L.A. bank had been a blast. Temping is usually a pain but this assignment was fun. Easy job, fun co-workers and a central location in a large office building next to a strip mall with a bookstore and Mexican restaurant Who could ask for more, except maybe a trust fund! I was a model worker til I developed a crush on a sexy middle-aged guy who owned another business in the building. The first day I worked at the bank I noticed Phil joking around with the girl who ran the magazine stand downstairs. He was tall and little chunky round the middle, somewhere in his 40s with thick black hair that was surely the envy of a lot of men his age. Every few days after that I'd see him getting in the elevator or grabbing a cup of coffee at the Starbucks. Even though he was quite older than me and no stud, there was something about him that I found attractive. He radiated a genial charisma that drove me crazy.

Now if I could only strike up the nerve to speak to him.

One morning, I got to the office early and lingered by the magazine stand, flipping through a copy of Jane a half dozen times before he finally came in. He didn't see me, but I eyed him as he grabbed a copy of the Times.

"You're looking good today, Sarah," He winked at the girl behind the register. "Like your top."

"Yeah, right. You like what's underneath it," she joked, pulling her tank top up til it fully covered her ample bosom.

"Sssh! Don't say things like that. I'll get popped for sexual harassment if that spinster saleswoman comes down here and eavesdrops." He left a dollar on the counter and headed for the elevator, winking at me before he walked out the door.

Finally, I made my getaway, buying the magazine cause I felt guilty for thumbing through it so long it was practically unsalable. "Who was that guy?" I asked as the girl rang up the sale.

"Oh, that's Phil. He owns the real estate place on the 10th floor. Nice guy, but he's been a real pain since he got divorced. Hits on every female in the building. You'll be next"

"Well, I'll have to be on guard then," I said, trying not to smile too much. When I got back to the processing department, I retreated to my cubicle, put on my headphones and pretended to work while I devised a plan to "bump" into Phil. Sharisse noticed my preoccupied grin, and questioned me.

"OK, Brenda, what's up?" "I'm doing my work and listening to the Ramones."

"What's his name? I can tell when a girl's sweet on a man. Don't deny it. Who is he?"

"Oh, can't I keep it a secret? I don't want the whole building to know."

"It's that player from the real estate agency. I knew it."

"He was looking at me today." I blurted, lowering my voice as an afterthought. But how do I get him? I can't go up to his office and say "Hey, let's do it."

"No, that's his job. You gotta use what you got to trap him. Now what was he looking at today."

"I don't know." Jeremy, a fledging fashion designer and temp from another agency sauntered over to my cubicle.

"Honey, I'm not predisposed to your type at all and even I know what he was looking at."

"What?" I said, confused. Sharisse and Jeremy burst out laughing.

"Stand up, honey," Sharisse said.

"Side view," Jeremy added. "What? Are you guys making fun of me?"

I stood sideways in front of them. "Do I have a stain on my pants?" I panicked, craning my neck and looking at my rear.

"No, honey, you got a bubble butt." Sharisse laughed.

"That is a big booty for a white girl, Bren," Jeremy laughed. I blushed.

"That's what you have to use to get your man," Sharisse said.

Just then, Randall, the floor supervisor, a passive aggressive geek with a dirt-thin mustache poked his head over the cubicle partition. "Break time is over, folks. Get back to work."

Sharisse and Jeremy scattered. Flustered that he had seen me modeling my butt, I sat back down and craned my head intently against the computer screen. My face turned eight different shades of red as I attempted to type in a check number, though I could have sworn I saw Randall winking at me before he continued on his rounds.

The next morning, Jeremy comforted me. "Don't worry, hon. Nothing's gonna happen to your job. Randall likes you too much to let you go." He winked and returned to his workstation. Oh great, now I had the geek after me when I wanted the stud. Story of my life. I took an early lunch, escaping to the courtyard with a sushi platter from the Japanese restaurant in the lobby. I opened my journal and scribbled in it aimlessly, unable to concentrate. I looked up and saw Phil and his business partner walk out of the office building's revolving doors. Both clad in jeans and T-shirts, they were laughing, seemingly deep in conversation about some triviality. In his casual Friday attire, Phil looked like an entirely different person. Younger, friendlier, more accessible.

A Britney Spears lookalike rollerbladed by the fountain with her shirtless boyfriend. I glanced over at Phil, whose eyesight drifted away from his buddy and over to Britney every few seconds. I smiled at her boyfriend, who winked at me when she skated off toward the fountain.

"What are you grinning about, gorgeous?" Phil's voice startled me. He looked me over, and my whole body prickled to attention as he walked closer.

I remembered Sharisse's advance and took action. I dropped my pen.

"Oh, let me get that for you." "No, that's Ok. I got it."

I bent down slowly, trying my best not to giggle or show any emotion. As I straightened my back, I heard him moan.

"That's it. Take your time."

"What's your name?"

"Brenda."

"I'm Phil," he said. "You married?" he asked, not taking his eyes off my butt.

"Na, I'm not the marrying kind," I said, and it was true.

"Neither am I. I mean, I used to be married. Big mistake. I've been divorced a couple years now." He paused, finally looking at my face.

"What time do you get off work? Maybe I could take you out for coffee or something."

"That would be nice. Yes, I'd like that."

"Do you live by yourself?" "No I have a…I have a kind of like a boyfriend but…..."

"He's not giving you what you need. I can give you that."

Luckily, Randall was feeling generous and he let us off work at 4 instead of 5. I waited by the fountain in the courtyard nervously, wondering if Phil would actually show up or run off with the bimbo cashier from the newstand.

He showed up at 4:30 and drove me to his house. "I got the small house. Don't matter that it's only 2 bedrooms. It's just me. "

He wasted no time getting me to the bedroom. "C'mere, lemme see. You wear panties or thongs?"

"Thongs," I said. Empowered by his fascination with my butt, I bragged a little. "I have beautiful cheeks. Why would I want to cover them up?"

"Down with those jeans," he snapped his fingers. Let me see what made me wank off in the john yesterday."

I stepped out of my jeans, not sure if I should control myself and not look at him.

"Up against the wall and stick it out. Oh, yeah, that's beautiful." Just knowing it turned him on so much made me wet. He knelt in front me, running his hands over my ass. I shook it a little, putting on a little show for him.

"I'll tell you what, babe. Just walk away from me so I can watch you move." So I obliged. It felt a little weird walking around for him like a nudie model. Let's face it I was a trained office worker, not a professional trollop.

"I loved watching you walk to the elevator. Like Jell-O on springs," he quoted the line from "Some Like It Hot." "Get down on all fours. I bet you like it from behind."

"Where you gonna put that thing?" I asked nervously.

He kissed me. "Oh I'm not putting in anywhere bad- not unless you want me too." He slapped my ass and licked his lips. "Right now it's going inside the best place in the world. "

He knelt behind me and took his belt off. "Not so fast." I cooed, slipping a finger over the leather belt. "Just a little bit." I slapped a bare cheek. "Right here."

"Yeah, you're a bad, bad girl ain't ya?" He slipped out of his pants as I aimed my butt a bit closer to him for maximum effect. He slapped me with his belt just enough to make my butt jiggle. And when I heard him moan and hit me again I wondered if my lust had unleashed something more than had met the eye.

"I love watching it move, you know. It's not too hard like some of those athletic women and it's not too soft. It's just right."

He kissed the middle of my left cheek, then moved directly behind me. Instinctively, I stroked his cock, guiding it closer to its destination. His body was smoother and tighter than I had imagined. Desire took over. I forgot who I was and became his fantasy.

"Oh yeah, that's beautiful, a beautiful ripe ass," He brushed his cock against my pussy lips, which were already slippery with juices he had inspired.

"Time for the best of both worlds," He slipped a finger inside my pussy with the reverence of a man who had met his match. The feeling of delight cascaded through me, so sweet and welcoming and gentle. He sure knew how to make me feel like a goddess with just that one touch.

"There, you're gonna like this even better." He slid his cock in me so quickly I barely got a glimpse of it. I looked over my shoulder and watched him as he fucked me. His cock did excellent work, but that was not our primary concern. Our sweet bodies would take care of that automatically.

"Yeah, that's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Yeah." Phil tilted his head back, lost in a lustful trance. He massaged my cheeks, his warm hands circling my ass, pinching it ever so slightly. The friction taunted me just enough to make me moan in welcome relief. He lunged gently in my pussy, taking his time as he savored the sight of our bodies merging. The slick sound of his cock disappearing into my pussy lulled me into a delighted stupor. The sensations of skin and heavy breathing and moaning combined to transport me to another realm. It had been so long since I'd indulged in such magical sex. Just hours before he had been a non-descript middle-aged businessman oogling a primly dressed office worker. Now lust had morphed us into the equivalent of seasoned porn stars.

"You have big hands," I giggled. He gripped my ass cheeks, alternately spanking and rubbing them as he fucked me. The steady rhythm of his cock and his busy hands ended when a welcome shower of cum dripped lusciously down my thighs. I fell on the floor, sated but still horny and daring as the Whore of Babylon. Phil strutted to the bathroom naked and proud of himself.

"You liked that, huh, you little sex kitten?" he said, returning with a wet washcloth. He knelt down and cleaned my thighs and pussy, like a good host. I giggled as the cool water dripped over my clit.

"It's my turn to spank you," I announced. The night had just started as far as I was concerned. Phil laughed. "See, I always knew you were the wild type. I saw you staring at me at the newstand that day, Miss Passive-Aggressive."

He slapped my ass again for good measure, lifted me into his arms, and tossed me on the king-sized bed like a little dolly. I bounced on the bed, the satiny feel of the comforter making me friskier. He nuzzled my breasts, ignoring my attempts to spank him. Disappointed, but unwilling to protest, I let him do his bidding, losing myself in whatever sensations he inflicted on me. We made love again and he straddled me, his sleek movements making me forget my desires as I yielded to him. I let out a little yell, and he laughed.

"You sound so cute when you come," he laughed. He slipped his arms around me and we cuddled awhile before he fell asleep. I stared at the ceiling for a long time, smiling and letting the sweat on his chest sink deep into my skin. My eyelids grew heavy and looked at my watch to gauge how much time I had left before I had to be home. It was already eight 'o clock. Ron would be home at nine.

"Phil, Phil, " I whispered in his ear, "I have to go home now."

"Umm," he moaned, not quite as sound asleep as I had feared. "Are you sure?"

"I have to be home by 9," I said, trying not to sound paniced.

"What do you turn into a pumpkin if you're not back later than 9?"

"No, but.." I wanted to say "I'll get the third degree", but I knew that wasn't his problem.

"I'll call a cab."

"I'll drive you home if you want." He sat up in bed and yawned. "Oh, that's right. You live with your boyfriend. Sucks, doesn't it? Reminds me of when I first cheated on my wife."

He kissed me. "I had to do it though. "I'll drive you. Have you home in half an hour. Wanna shower here?"

"Yeah, I better." I said.

"Hurry up." Phil said. "There's plenty of fresh towels in there- and a shower cap." Phil spoke like a man who had been on both sides of this scenario many times before. I showered quickly and pulled my clothes on. By the time I walked back into the bedroom he was fully clothed and jangling his keys. On the drive home, I waited for him to speak first.

"That was fun, sweetie. Ya gonna let me have some of that ass again?"

"Probably." I said coyly. "You were great."

"I'll see you Monday." Phil said as he dropped me off in front of my apartment building at exactly eight-thirty. I kissed him on the cheek, worried that Ron might be home early, checking the mail and see us.

"Yeah," I whispered. "I'll wait for you at the newsstand. At 8:30, reading a copy of Jane."

"That's my girl." He waved to me as I walked up the steps, registering one last lingering glance at my ass.

I never saw him again.

I called the temp agency Monday morning and told them I'd gotten a permanent job. "Don't try back with us," they said, royally peeved. I felt kinda bad because I really liked the people at the agency and Sharisse and the folks at the bank. But guilt overrode all my other concerns. If I saw Phil again, I'd fall prey to temptation. Not to mention people in both our offices would eventually figure out what was going on and gossip over Krispy Kremes and coffee. Sure, every now and then I think about what would have happened if I'd seen him again. Probably indulge in a few more sex sessions and then we'd tire of each other and stop calling. I only told one of my girlfriends about him.

"You did the right thing. Better a one-night stand than an affair that'll break up a real relationship," my sassy friend Wanda told me. "Besides, wouldn't you rather remember him as a sex object than as a jerk who didn't call you back?"

That's why I've always liked Wanda. She tells it like it is.