Amateur

Author’s Note: “He Said, She Said — Ch. 01: The Seduction” is being released under the “Erotic Couplings” category and is the first installment of a two-part series. “He Said, She Said — Ch. 02: The Consequences” will be released next week under the “Loving Wives” category.

Chapter 01: The Seduction

I should have known she would be trouble the moment she walked into the interview room. Diminutive in stature, her auburn hair pulled back in a bun, the thirty-ish young woman carried an air of confidence beyond her years. The two other interviewers and I stood briefly as she approached the table.

“Miss Edwards?” inquired Gerard, extending his hand in greeting. “Mrs. Edwards,” she replied with a grin, revealing a perfectly straight and beautifully white set of teeth. It was one of those light-up-the-room smiles. My gaze captured hers for perhaps a moment too long.

“Good morning, Mrs. Edwards,” I said, “thanks for joining us today. I’m Jim Thompson. This is Gerard DePaul, and that’s Walid Kaisa. Gerard heads up the research group and Walid heads up the implementation team. I’m in charge of the programming group and will be making the final hiring decision.”

She nodded and flashed her smile again. “You can call me Angela,” she said as handshakes continued around the table.

As the interview proceeded, it became painfully obvious that she was the best candidate with whom we’d spoken. She handled both technical and behavioural questions adroitly. As the scheduled hour wound down, I could tell that neither Gerard nor Walid was ready for the session to end.

“Mrs. Edwards, would you be able to spend an extra 15 to 30 minutes with us?” I asked, “I believe that we have the room for as long as we need it.”

“Sure — no problem. And it’s Angela, Mr. Thompson.”

“Good. And you can call me Jim. I’d like to give you a better sense of the organization you’ll be joining, and the particular needs of the role you’ll fill,” I said. I had learned over the years that interviewing is always a two-way street, and if you find a candidate you want to land, you need to sell the job to them as well as they sell themselves to you.

We finished up twenty minutes later and, after soliciting and answering questions from Angela, sent her on her way. “Well, boys, what do you think?” I asked.

“Smart lady,” replied Walid.

“And a real looker,” teased Gerard.

“None of the ladies’ man crap,” I answered, “we’re strictly talking business here. Besides, what would Sophie think if she heard that comment out of you?”

“She’d say it’s par for the course. All bark and no bite. Any number of tired clichés,” he grinned.

“Well, I say get your mind out of the gutter and help me decide on legitimate grounds.”

Walid interrupted the exchange. “She’s the best person for the job,” he stated simply.

“Agreed,” added Gerard, “she’s got the programming skills and lots of upside on the people skills side. Not your average computer geek. She has management potential.”

I released a slow, mild sigh. “Agreed,” I conceded.

Three weeks later, Angela was our newest employee.

Throughout her first few months on the job, she climbed the learning curve quickly. My weekly one-on-one meetings with her convinced me of a sophisticated programming approach and a rapidly developing understanding of the organization.

“This project for Bozer seems to be a prime candidate for escalation,” she suggested at a weekly meeting a few months into her tenure. “I’d like to prioritize it above my others. I’m just finishing up the risk management modelling work.”

“Keen insight,” I replied, “Bozer’s someone you want to keep happy if your career here is going to get some momentum.” Despite the fact that we had no direct reporting line to Thad Bozer, he was a rainmaker for the organization, bringing in the lion’s share of our new contracts.

“Thanks. You always seem to take an interest in my development, not just the work that I do for you. I really appreciate that.” Her tone was sincere.

“No thanks needed. It’s part of being a decent manager. Speaking of which, I’ll be frank, Angela — I have you targeted as someone to groom for succession planning.”

“There’s no need to be Frank — I like Jim just fine,” she teased, sporting her trademark light-up-the-room smile.

“Now you’re making me blush,” I replied — and it was true.

She pushed her flirt a little further. “And as to grooming me, you can assist in my boudoir any time.”

“Okay, okay — let’s not go there…”

“Aw, why not?” she asked with an overdone pout. By that time the colour in my face surely resembled that of a stop sign — consistent with the sign I was trying to get Angela to heed. I shifted in my seat to relieve some of the pressure building at the front of my boxer briefs. She glanced briefly down at my discomfort.

“Enough’s enough,” I answered — and then made the mistake of smiling and patting her hand so that she’d know I wasn’t angry. Her squeeze of my fingers and seductive smile in return set off a flutter in my stomach. ataşehir escort I knew then that she wasn’t completely teasing.

I cleared my throat. “Back to business,” I said flatly, “it’s fine to start on Bozer’s project next. Great idea. Glad to see you being proactive.”

“It might surprise you if you knew how forward-looking I can be,” she smiled.

“Somehow, I think you’re full of surprises…”

From that day onward, I sensed a growing sexual tension with Angela whenever we met together. She’d always lean just a little bit forward as we spoke. She’d often grasp my forearm or wrist for emphasis when making a point. I’d sometimes catch her glance lingering on me when I’d look up from my meeting notes.

I’ve always closed the door to filter out background noise when meeting with others in my office, but I began to leave it open whenever Angela and I met. The open door successfully prevented the conversation from straying into the boudoir arena, but unfortunately did nothing to keep my eyes from straying where they shouldn’t.

Recognizing my own vulnerability, I tried to always steer our conversations toward strictly business or family matters. I made sure she knew all about my wife, Jessica, and our three kids. And Angela shared pictures and stories with me of her 3 year-old daughter, Kaylee, and her husband, Bill. He was a police officer who loved his job, and whose beat included my and Jessica’s neighbourhood. Kaylee stayed with Angela’s mom during working hours.

Despite the ongoing undercurrent and my roving eyes, my defensive strategy seemed to be keeping the hormones at bay as fall became winter. “Little sister, Jim — think little sister!” I told myself, determined to overcome my infatuation.

However, during one of our early December conversations on the Bozer project, she stopped mid-sentence. My eyes were resting guiltily on the milky-white swell of her small but invitingly rounded breasts. Her cleavage was barely peeking out from behind a frilly purple lace camisole worn under her tight white sweater. Angela’s outfits had become increasingly daring despite the cooler weather — nothing inappropriate for the office environment, but tighter and frillier than in the past.

She simply waited for me to look up at her eyes. Her smile once again lit up the room. “Busted!” she teased.

“I-um… I don’t… I’m not sure what to say. I’m sorry, Angela — I guess I was… distracted,” I confessed obliquely, hoping she didn’t realize the source of my distraction.

“And why would that be?” she pressed.

“I don’t want to insult you…”

“By lying? Or by telling the truth?”

“Which would be more insulting?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Okay. I won’t lie to you. I was staring at your breasts. And I won’t do it again,” I promised, trying to consciously fix my gaze on her mouth. I couldn’t look her in the eye, and I couldn’t dare to look lower than her mouth.

“Jim, it doesn’t bother me. I’m flattered. In fact — I’d hoped you’d noticed.”

“The change in wardrobe?”

“Not as frumpy as it used to be, eh?”

“You always dressed the part of the professional — nothing frumpy about that. And,” I hesitated, “you filled it out quite nicely. It’s not the package that matters.”

“It’s the toy surprise inside?”

I couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Like I’ve said before, you’re full of surprises. And I’m sure the inner person is as beautiful as the wrapper…”

“Don’t get all sappy on me. And speaking of packages, yours seems pretty nice.”

She may as well have smacked me across the head with a two-by-four.

I tried to feign ignorance. “My wife tells me my outside wrapper isn’t too aesthetically displeasing. But to not get a big head about it…”

“I didn’t say wrapper. I said package. And I’ve noticed that you do tend to get a big head… of sorts… whenever we’re being open with each other…”

“Whoa, nelly! Let’s get back on topic.”

“Okay. You were staring at my breasts…”

“Not that topic! I’ve already apologized.”

“And insulted me in the process. You said you’d stop. That tells me you think you can resist the urge to look. That I’m not irresistibly attractive.” She batted her eyelids and smiled coyly.

I didn’t know whether to take her seriously or humorously. I decided on a serious approach. “Look, I didn’t mean to insult you. I didn’t insult you by lying to you. And I’m being honest now. You’re incredibly attractive, both physically and — maybe more compelling — intellectually. I was just trying to assure you I’m not into sexual harassment when I said I’d stop looking at you in that way.”

“What were you thinking about when you were looking at me — in that way?” she mocked.

“I honestly don’t remember,” I lied, “but I have to put a stop to this conversation. I need to run to another meeting. Let’s pick up with the Bozer project at 3:00 if you’re available.”

“Okay, have it your way…”

I invited Walid for our 3:00 discussion about the Bozer project. And for the kadıköy escort bayan next couple of weeks, I deliberately spent zero time alone with Angela.

On the Saturday before Christmas, I stopped in at the office for a few hours to catch up on some year-end resource planning. I’d be taking time off between the holidays and wanted to leave things in good shape.

The parking lot and the building were virtually empty. The security guard at the front desk was the only person I saw as I made my way to my floor.

Around 11AM, I heard a tap at the window beside my open office door. Angela poked her head in.

“Nice Santa hat,” I said as I stood up. She was wearing tight-fitting jeans and a turtleneck pullover sweater, topped off by the Santa cap. Her hands were stuffed into her jacket pockets.

“I’m in a festive mood,” she replied as she advanced toward me.

“What are you doing here?”

“Saw your car in the parking lot. Thought you might need some help.”

“I’m fine. Just trying to get ready for some time off.”

“Sort of defeats the purpose — working overtime in order to get time off.”

“It’s all about the timing. Need to be with the people who need me, when they need me.”

“Indeed,” she said, a grin spreading across her face.

“What? Did I miss the punch line?”

“Not at all. I’m just enjoying your oh-so-unintentional sense of irony.”

“You lost me…”

She shook her head, fumbled around in her right jacket pocket, then pulled her left hand out of her other jacket pocket. She was clutching something green and leafy.

Angela took another couple of steps forward and leaned her face into my personal space. “Like I said, I’m feeling sort of festive.” She raised her left hand over my head. “Mistletoe,” she whispered, raising up on her toes to put her lips near mine.

Without thinking, I took the bait. I brushed my lips against hers. They were so soft, with a hint of cherry Chapstick flavour. I slowly breathed in the aroma of her perfume. Time seemed to stand still.

Rather than backing away after a friendly peck under the mistletoe, her tongue pressed into my lips. I gladly welcomed her, exploring her tongue with mine as I wrapped my arms around her. Neither of us seemed willing to break the kiss. Then, finally, the stirrings of an erection caused me to release my grip, for fear she’d feel the tell-tale sign of my arousal pressed up against her tight jeans.

Angela grinned in my direction. “Festive is another word for horny,” she confessed with a guilty furrowing of her brow. The problem with my erection grew rapidly worse — or just plain grew rapidly. I was at a loss for words.

“Before things go any further,” she said, “I want you to answer the question I asked in your office that day.”

“What question?”

“What were you thinking about when you were staring at my breasts?”

“Um…”

“Yes?”

Her luminous green eyes wouldn’t let me lie to her. “About… how I longed to see them uncovered. To see… whether your areolae are pink — or brown.”

“And?”

“To fondle them with my fingers. To tease them with my tongue.”

“Anything more?”

“To… strip you naked and run my hands all over your body. To enjoy the scent of your ivory skin as I trail kisses all over it — everywhere.”

“That’s all?”

“No,” I said, pulling her back close to me. “To rub my fingers gently between your legs, feeling your moisture betray the fact that you want me.” My cock was now standing at full salute, pressing roughly through the fabric of our clothes against her flat belly.

“And it stops there?”

“No. To nuzzle your pussy with my tongue, sliding my fingers in and out as I lap at your clit. To hear you beg me to make you cum.”

“Uh huh…” Angela’s face was now somewhat flushed, a smile curling at her lips.

“To bring you to climax, and then gently slide my dick inside you. To see our pubic bones pushed against each other, your auburn thatch grinding against my black forest.”

“And…”

“To kiss your lips while we’re screwing like rabbits. To grab your luscious ass and pull you into me harder. To spurt my seed inside you as you cum a second time.”

Her smile spread all the way across her face, her green eyes clearly betraying a “fuck me” look. “And… what’s to stop me from filing a sexual harassment claim?” she teased.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. But it would be a case of ‘he said, she said,'” I teased in return.

She jammed her hands back into her jacket pockets. “Well then,” she purred, “looks like I’ll need to collect some physical evidence.”

She smiled again and quickly removed her jacket, tossing it aside into one of my guest chairs. She stepped forward and began to stroke my bulging cock through the fabric of my trousers. “Looks like the mistletoe isn’t the only type of ‘missile’ in the room,” she joked.

My missile nearly exploded on the spot. It was ready for launch.

“Whoa — slow down, Angela. If this is going to happen, let’s make it good for both escort maltepe of us.”

“‘Going to happen?’ So you do…?”

“Do what?”

“Find me irresistibly attractive.”

“Let me peel off the wrapper and show you.”

“You’re only peeling off my wrapper if you’re planning on showing me your package.”

“What’s fair is fair, I guess…”

“I’m afraid I’ll need to give it a careful inspection to start.” With that, she released her grasp and began to unbutton and unzip my pants. As she dropped my trousers and my boxer briefs to the floor, my cock sprang free, unabashedly displaying its eager response to the call of duty.

“Looks like somebody does have the ‘big head’,” she chuckled, “I guess wifey-poo didn’t teach you that lesson well enough.”

I hadn’t thought of Jessica until this point in the exchange. I guess I was thinking with my other head. A pang of guilt twinged inside me. But, being honest with myself, I recognized I was past the point of no return. Still, I struggled to bring some sanity back to the situation.

“So, what’s Bill going to do if he finds out you’re providing me lessons?”

“Worried about the fact that he carries a gun and a billy club?”

“I was thinking more about us risking our marriages.”

“You know as much as I do about the risk / reward relationship. It’s true of investments of all types — including investment in a marriage. You don’t get the mind-blowing rewards without taking some pretty big risks.”

“I’d never thought of it that way before…”

Angela knelt down in front of my surging hard-on and grasped it with her right hand. As she began to stroke it, she raised her left hand above it. “Oh, look, mistletoe,” she giggled, then leaned in and began trailing kisses along the length of my shaft.

I placed my hand gently at the back of Angela’s head, guiding her closer as I signaled my assent. She licked the rim of my cock head and then slurped me into her mouth.

As she worked her magic, I couldn’t keep quiet. “Angie, baby!” I moaned.

She momentarily released my cock. “That’s Angela. I’m no Helen Reddy tune,” she quipped, returning to her work.

“That’s so-o-o good, baby,” I gasped as her head bobbed up and down on my rod, “but don’t make me cum.”

She slowed her rhythm and gently released my penis from her mouth. “Why not?”

“Because I’m often a one-hit wonder. I want to be able to be able to put my tool in the toolbox, if you know what I mean…”

“I know what you mean, you naughty boy. But you have a way to go before that. I want you to do all those things you were thinking about that day I caught you staring at my breasts.”

“Like this?” I asked, as I stood her up and began pulling the turtleneck over her head. She complied by raising her arms to accommodate.

“Uh huh,” she replied.

My gaze drifted to her lacy white bra. I took her in my arms for a hug, then began fumbling with the clasp at the back. “There’s an easier way,” she said, pulling the straps down. She then began sliding the bra to turn the clasp to the front, where she released it herself and dropped it to the floor.

My heart began to race. Her areolae were dusty pink, not brown. They seemed to perfectly complement her beautiful auburn hair, which today was up in a French braid. Angela seemed to change her hairstyle on almost a daily basis.

Though small, her tits were amazing. Perfectly symmetrical and gently rounded, they displayed the hint of cleavage that had gotten me into trouble in the first place. True to my daydream, I began to cup her breasts with my hands and fondle them with my fingers. I rolled her nipples to erection between my thumbs and forefingers, causing her to let out a gasp.

“Use your tongue,” she urged. Who was I to disagree?

As I circled first one and then the other sensitive peak with gentle licks, I was reminded of trips to the ice cream shop with my kids. “Don’t want to lose any drips off the cone,” I mused in my head. Taking the ice cream analogy a step further, I took one whole boob in my mouth and essentially deep-throated it — the old “save the scoop from falling off the cone” strategy.

“God, that’s good,” she moaned. Wanting to pleasure her completely, I did the same with her other breast as I began unfastening her jeans.

“Here, let me help,” she said as she began to peel off her jeans.

I released her breast from my mouth. “No… that’s not how the daydream goes…”

“So you’ve memorized it?” she grinned.

“Etched in my mind,” I confessed. I then slowly and deliberately began to remove her clothes one by one, pausing to adore each new revelation. Her lacy white panties were the last to go, revealing her trimmed patch of auburn pubic hair — just as I’d imagined. I then pulled off my own shirt and dropped it on my desk.

When we stood completely naked before each other, I began caressing her from top to bottom. I started with her temples, then moved down to her cheeks, her jawline, her neck, and then her shoulders. I slowly massaged her shoulders and back, then moved my hands around front to rub her breasts and belly.

I deliberately bypassed her mound of Venus for the moment, moving behind to caress her lovely derriere, then her thighs and calves, then her feet and toes. She moaned as I gave her an extended foot massage.

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