'All right,' Kate said, trying to conceal the tiredness in her voice. 'I'll be there on Monday week for the planning meeting. Looking forward to seeing you then.' She replaced the telephone on the cradle and said to it, 'I lied. I'm not looking forward to seeing you then at all.'

Outside her office the sun was setting. The glare shone through the windows and reflected off her computer's monitor. Beastly thing, she thought peevishly. No wonder I get headaches. I suppose I ought to pull the blinds, but it seems such a shame to shut the sun out. Kate's small, modern office room faced north-west and the sun only crept into it at the very end of each day, as if to tell her that it was time to think about going home, a celestial alarm call. Now, prompted by the sun, she sighed and pushed aside the report she was reviewing. Her brain had had enough: it felt as if someone had hung up a little sign saying, Full. No vacancies. Friday evening, Kate thought. No use trying to go on when I'm this tired, I'll have to go home soon.

As she leant over to turn off her machine it beeped at her, three slow beeps. She switched quickly through to her email. As she expected there was a little highlighted message at the bottom of the screen: *mail*.

I wish it said *male*, Kate thought. She did not want to read the email. It would be somebody else asking her to do something that she didn't have time for. She looked at her desk and sighed. Three reports sat there waiting for her final comments, accusing her. She flicked idly through them, looking at the titles.

A report for a large firm of lawyers on 'Practice Development Skills' -- in other words how good their staff were at selling and what they could do about it. This one, headed 'Executive Remuneration', was fairly dull, she remembered: a routine report for a privatised utility on top executive salaries, giving them some grounds to justify further massive increases in pay for their board of directors. Both of these two were there for Kate's opinion on style and presentation; she had not been involved in the actual work. But the last report was one that her team had produced under her management, a long document advising a blue chip company on how to design and introduce assessment centres for its senior managers -- courses at which the managers would be put through a number of tests and appraised by trained observers so that the company had an independent opinion on those managers' skills and abilities. It was a really interesting piece of consultancy work and had involved the whole of Kate's team for more than a month, and it carried a big fee tag too, but last thing on a Friday evening Kate could not summon up any enthusiasm to read it again.

On the top of each of the reports was a pink sticky note. Most people use yellow sticky notes and pink ones were bad news in Kate's office. They meant A Message From Bryony. Bryony, Kate's boss, had made it quite clear in recent weeks that she was looking for Kate to take on more and more client projects, as if she hadn't already got more work than one person could handle. When Kate had protested Bryony had said sharply in her quick prim Welsh voice, 'Client work brings in fees. If you haven't got enough time, cut down on the training you do for our staff. Nobody pays us for that,' and it had been no use protesting that the internal training work was interesting and satisfying in a way that client work never was. Not just reports, not just recommendations, but real action, real practice, things that made a difference to individual people. Kate was a natural teacher and coach and she loved the chance that training gave her to help people change themselves for the better.

She knew what the sticky notes would say without looking at them. They would be things like, Let's get this out tomorrow, and Why did I have to wait three days to see this report? It was all too much. Too much pressure, not enough thanks. The money was good, but it wasn't worth it.

She sat back in her chair, ignoring the stack of reports, and pulled the appointments pages of The Times out of her desk drawer. She had glanced at it on Thursday when it was printed and there were a couple of posts that looked very interesting. She had circled them with red ink and now looked at them again. Director of Training and Development, said one. Blue-chip Company. Competitive Salary and Executive Benefits. Top Level Car. Share Option Scheme. Call outside office hours on 0171...

That's what I'd like, thought Kate. Tell other people what to do for once. Who wants to be a consultant? I've done it for seven years and I know. People only ask you for help when the problem's got so far it's insoluble, and then they blame you when you can't solve it either. Get into one company and concentrate on sorting it out, why not. Take on a new challenge.

She looked at the advertisement a little longer. Her full lips were folded tight in thought and her feathery dark eyebrows were drawn down over her greenish-grey eyes in a straight, direct frown. This was how her staff often saw her, absorbed and concentrating, her hand pushing unconsciously through the dark hair which was twisted up behind her head into a simple French pleat and secured with a big tortoiseshell comb. It was always smooth when she put it up, but by the time she had been concentrating for an hour little wisps would have been pulled out of it, making her look wind-blown and ruffled. The slanting sunlight gleamed on her shining hair and touched the line of her rounded cheek with gold. The weather had been good in recent weeks and Kate's naturally white skin had a slight tan, the fruit of some gentle nude sunbathing on the secluded roof-garden of her apartment, alone, alas.

Kate folded the paper and laid it on her desk as a thought struck her. She went to the door of her office, which stood a little ajar, and stood looking out into the open-plan office outside. It was late, but one of her staff was still working. She hesitated with her hand on the door, catching her lower lip in her teeth as she looked speculatively at the dark young man who sat poring over a computer screen. His hands were pushing through his hair as he tussled with something, and Kate took a long breath then left her door and walked over to him, saying, 'Problem, Alex?'

He jumped and looked up at her. 'No, no, it's OK.' He had dark lashes and sparkling hazel eyes behind his round glasses and very pale skin: his chin was blue with stubble. His rolled-up sleeves revealed well-muscled forearms dusted with fine dark hairs and his collar was a little open, showing his pale throat. He was a junior member of the team, only twenty-four, more than five years younger than Kate, and she found him so desirable that the hairs prickled on the back of her neck. 'Honestly, I'm fine,' he was saying, and she blinked. 'I've nearly cracked it.' He pointed to the screen, where a little flowchart glowed. 'This performance matrix,' he said, 'they want the world, clients always do, and some of the things are mutually exclusive. But try telling them! I think I'm almost there, though.'

'You're a paragon,' Kate said. 'The client always comes first, eh?' This was a sort of catch phrase among the team, always good for a laugh, and now Alex chuckled as she had known he would. She could smell the last faint overtones of some sharp fragrance, Xcess or Fahrenheit, she wasn't sure, mingling with the musky lingering scent of his warm skin. She swallowed. 'But don't stay too late. Tina will be expecting you.'

'Oh, she's used to it,' said Alex. Kate smiled at him, then hesitated. Ask him if he'd like to go for a drink, she told herself. Ask him! How often are you alone in the office with him? Ask him, dammit!

'By the way, Kate.' Alex turned and leant on the back of his chair, looking up at her over the top of his little spectacles, and Kate barely prevented herself from jumping. 'I've been meaning to ask. Are you all right? We've noticed, the team have noticed, recently, that you seem a bit, well, under pressure.'

'Me?' Kate tried to sound surprised and lighthearted. 'Well, there's a lot on, you know, Alex. And Bryony's been turning the screws, too.'

Alex glanced over at the closed door of the big office that dominated the floor. 'Has she?' he asked in a low voice. 'God, she is a cow. She's so task-focused she makes Margaret Thatcher look like Mother Teresa. What she needs is a good seeing to.'

Tell him that what you need is a good seeing to, said the voice in Kate's mind. Tell him that he's the man to do it. But she just laughed and said, 'Are you volunteering, Alex?'

'Me? God, no!' Alex shook his dark head earnestly. 'I mean, she's good-looking enough, but it would be like trying to fuck an ice cube. None of us would go near her.' He looked up again and his hazel eyes glittered. For a moment Kate thought he was going to say, 'Not like you, Kate. All of us would love to try it with you.' But he didn't. All he said was, 'Well, if there's anything I can do to help...'

Come back into my office with me and make love to me, said Kate's inner voice. She sighed, then said, 'No, Alex, it's OK. I just need a weekend, that's all.' She put her hand briefly on his shoulder, then went back into her office and closed the door.

Her hand was tingling. Every time she saw him it did the same thing to her: she could feel that between her legs she was wet, already aroused and ready for a man. And that was just when he was wearing office clothes. She had taken all her people out recently for a night tenpin bowling, innocent enough, God knows, and Alex had turned up in the most unexpected gear. At work he dressed conservatively, but then he had worn jeans so tight you could tell he had nothing underneath them and a loose white T-shirt and a biker's leather jacket. Christ, she thought, it was close that night: I could have been on the front page of The Sun. She could see the headline now: Voracious female boss gropes junior!

But why did she never tell him how attractive she found him? Why stand over him, breathing in his wonderful smell, and never say a word? She spent half her time teaching people how to be assertive, how to negotiate, how to say what they wanted simply and directly, and where Alex was concerned she might as well be a tongue-tied teenager. It made her angry with herself.

She leant against the door, tipping back her head and closing her eyes. Her hand felt for the key and turned it in the lock. She went back to her desk and settled herself comfortably in her chair, leaning back, and pulled the comb out of her glossy dark hair so that it swung loose to her shoulders. If she couldn't have the real thing, she would make do with her imagination.

She touched her nipples gently through the fabric of her silk T-shirt. Last time she had done this, masturbated in the office, it had been early in the morning. She had been sure she was safe at 7 a.m., but when she had rubbed herself to a frantic orgasm and straightened her clothing and got up she had turned to see the window cleaner's cradle descending at speed away from her window, leaving tell tale white splashes on the glass where the watching cleaner had spurted his come against it and fled without time to wipe it off. Well, there were no window cleaners working now: she was alone with her thoughts. She spread her legs and ran her hand down her body.

Her brain supplied a tentative knock on the door and a crystal-clear image of Alex leaning his dark tousled head around it. He seemed disturbed and he was even paler than usual. 'Kate, are you busy? Can you spare me a moment?'

'Sure, of course. Come in, sit down.' She got up and went over to close the door. 'You look upset, Alex. Are you all right?'

'Well, I --' He hesitated awkwardly. 'I --'

'Look, don't worry.' She turned the key in the lock and came and sat down next to him, not wanting to put the desk between him and her. 'What's the matter?'

'It's stupid,' he said, not looking at her. 'I can't talk about it outside, the guys would make my life a misery. It's Tina. She says --' He looked up at Kate with anxious eyes. 'She says this job is killing our relationship. She says I don't want her any more.'

'Don't you?' Kate asked directly.

'Of course I do, it's just that -- it's just that things at work sometimes take over, you know what I mean. I find I think about things at work more than I should, even when I'm at home.'

'What things?' Kate asked softly. She was leaning forward a little: the scoop neck of her silk top dipped to reveal her full white breasts, mounded in the shallow cups of a lace bra. 'What do you think about?'

Alex's lips were parted and dry. He put out his tongue nervously to moisten them and Kate saw that the tip was quite sharply pointed, pink and glistening. She would like to feel that pointed pink tongue licking her. He swallowed as if it was hard for him to speak. At last he said hoarsely, 'I can't --'

'You have to tell me,' Kate said, leaning forward further. She let her tongue show between her teeth. 'I'm your boss. I need to know if you've got a problem. I might be able to do something about it.'

'I doubt it,' Alex managed to say. 'It's you.'

His hands were twitching in his lap, twisting nervously over each other as if they were cold. Kate looked at him very calmly, though her heart was pounding with excitement, and asked evenly, 'Me? All right. Is it something that I'm doing that's wrong?'

Alex shook his head and swallowed again. A hectic flush was beginning to colour the white skin of his cheekbones. 'You don't do anything wrong,' he muttered, looking down. 'Nothing. Nothing. It's just that --' He lifted his head: his mouth looked dry and desperate. Words seemed to be forced from him. 'It's just that whenever I see you I think about -- I --' At last it came out in a rush. 'I want you, that's all. I want you.'

He was sitting with his arms crossed, defensive, anxious body language. Kate felt a surge of satisfaction and pleasure and desire. She reached forward and caught hold of his right hand in hers and lifted it towards her body. He looked at his hand and then at her with an expression of total disbelief. 'That's not a problem,' she said with a small smile. 'That's an opportunity.' She drew his hand closer towards her and put it on her breast and Alex gasped and looked wildly behind him at the door.

'It's locked,' she said, 'don't worry.' She pressed his hand down on her breast. 'Feel it,' she said, 'feel it, my nipples are hard. Alex, tell me what you think about.'

Suddenly Alex's hand squeezed her breast, strong and possessive. His eyes were very bright and he was frowning almost as if he were angry. 'I think about you,' he told her. 'I think about how I would like to --' He stopped, staring first at her face, then at her hand. His lips were trembling.

'I think,' Kate said steadily, feeling her nipple swelling and aching beneath the pressure of his palm, 'I think that I would like you to go down on me, Alex, right now. I would like you to use your mouth on me. I think you have a beautiful mouth, I want to feel it. Then you can do whatever it is you would like to do.'

There was a little silence: Alex stared at her. Then, without another word, he slid off his chair and knelt in front of her. He reached out and took hold of her silk T-shirt and lifted it over her head, then he pushed up her long full skirt and slid his hands up her thighs, over the tops of her stockings and on to the naked flesh. He came closer, closer between her parted legs, and with his fingers delicately pulled down the cups of her bra to show her swollen nipples. He touched them, first gently, then harder, pinching them so that she gasped and winced. She wanted to feel his mouth between her legs and she put her hands on his soft dark hair and pushed his head downwards and slithered forward until she was sitting on the edge of the chair and he could pull her panties down easily over her white thighs so that she was naked above her stockings. 'You're beautiful,' he whispered. 'You're lovely, you're so soft, your skin is so soft.'

'Lick me,' Kate whimpered. 'Lick me.' For a moment nothing happened, but then he breathed on her, a long cold breath almost like a whistle, so that she cried out with the coldness of it on her wet warm flesh. She felt his fingers on her legs, on the soft fullness of her thighs where they joined her body, and she moaned with the urgent need to feel him touching her. Then he licked her, one long stroke with that pointed tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top all in one movement.

'Oh,' she cried, 'oh God.' Alex laughed, and she could feel his warm breath stirring the crisp fur around her vulva. His strong white hands were holding her hips, denting the flesh of her thighs and backside. He said softly, 'Be quiet, they'll hear you,' and then he lowered his mouth on to her, the whole of his warm wet mouth wrapped around her wet sex. She whined with anticipation. Her clitoris was throbbing, aching, waiting for him to touch it, and the muscles of her vagina were tightening in helpless desire. He moved his mouth, sucking gently, and she whimpered again and lifted her hands to her breasts, squeezing them, pinching at her nipples. Then he touched the hard swelling bud of her clitoris with his pointed tongue and she gave a great shudder. Her head rolled back against the chair and her lips parted softly and she writhed as he lapped and lapped at the little button that was the epicentre of her feelings. His tongue was as sensitive, as imaginative as she had dreamed it might be: sometimes only its stiff pointed tip caressed her, sometimes the whole length of his tongue swirled over her, sometimes he caught the quivering flesh of her labia between his lips and dragged at it so that she groaned with the ecstasy of waiting. She fondled her breasts harder and harder, heaving her hips up towards Alex's flickering tongue and crying out rhythmically as her orgasm approached. She could feel it starting at her feet and beginning to sweep up towards her aching, gaping sex. But before she could come he stopped licking her clitoris and instead thrust his tongue deep inside her, exploring the silken walls of her body. She moaned with frustration as the sensation faded and he drew back a little and said softly, 'Wait. I want to taste you. Wait.'

'Please,' Kate moaned as he thrust his tongue into her again, 'please.' He gave his long tongue a final twist within her then took his right hand from her thigh and put his index finger deliberately on to the bead of her engorged clitoris, pressing it gently. She groaned with pleasure and her moist tunnel spasmed, wanting to be filled. As if he sensed her need his finger slid down the slippery soft lips of her sex and hesitated at the entrance and then slowly, delicately pushed inside her. She gasped and writhed and squirmed on his penetrating finger: involuntarily she clenched her muscles, gripping him tightly, and he gave another gentle laugh and very slowly lowered his mouth towards her straining bud of pleasure and touched it with his tongue. As he did so he put another finger inside her and then another. The sensation was incredible, like being taken by a very short but very thick cock, and as he slid his fingers in and out of her, faster and faster, he sucked on her clitoris as if it were a nipple, drawing it into his mouth and flickering the tip of his tongue against it.

'Christ,' she moaned, 'oh yes, Alex, yes.' Her head was rolling from side to side and her fingers were feverishly pinching and pulling her nipples. 'Yes,' she cried, 'don't stop, don't stop.' This time he did not stop: he lapped harder and harder and thrust his fingers deeper and deeper up into her streaming flesh until she gave a great cry and seized his head with her hands and held him there with his mouth on her as she came, waves of pleasure shuddering through her.

He pushed off her hands and lifted his head while she still shuddered with the aftershock of her orgasm. Her juices were gleaming around his mouth, and he smiled at her and licked his lips. 'Now,' he said, 'my turn.' He put his hands to his fly and unfastened it. Kate shook her head to clear it and looked down, suddenly curious to know what he wore under his well-cut suit. She leant forward and caught hold of his trousers and pulled them down then smiled with pleasure as she saw his neat tight backside revealed by a black close-fitting thong. His penis was hard and erect: the glossy purple dome at the top of its strong shaft stuck out of the front of his briefs. There was a drop of fluid glistening on it and she gave a little gasp and leant forward to touch it with her lips.

She pushed down his underwear and his cock sprang free. It was lovely, taut and eager, hot and smooth and dry under her fingers. The soft hairy pouch of his balls was drawn up tight with the swelling of his cock. She wanted it to be wet with her own moisture, she wanted to taste it. She opened her mouth to take him in but he caught hold of her hair and pulled her back. 'No,' he said, 'no, I want to have you.'

'I want you to have me too,' she said, leaning back in the chair and spreading her legs wider. 'I want you to.'

'Not like that,' Alex said. He pulled her up from the chair. Her legs were like rubber and she leant against him, feeling the heat of his eager cock through her clothes. 'Not like that. I want you on the desk, on your desk, I always have done.' With one arm he swept the desk clear: papers and memos and pens tumbled to the floor. 'Clear desk policy,' he muttered. Then he made her lie back on the hard wooden surface, her legs hanging off the end of the desk, thighs parted, waiting for him.

'Oh God, I've wanted this since the day I joined,' he whispered. He was leaning over her now, lowering his mouth towards hers. Their lips met and she felt his agile tongue slipping into her open mouth, exploring it, teasing and tantalising. He tasted of salt, of sex, of her own fingers when she had masturbated. His hands were on her breasts, his square white nails gently scratching at her nipples. She was overcome with desire for him, she wanted to feel his body inside hers, penetrating her: but now he seemed to want to take his time. His hand slid down her body to the ruckled mess of her skirt and up between her legs. 'You're so wet,' he whispered. 'So wet. Say you want me.'

'I want you,' she replied obediently, heaving up her hips towards his waiting erection. 'I want you. Alex, take me, please.'

'I will take you,' he whispered, and she felt the head of his cock nestling between the lips of her aching empty pussy, hot as fire, satin-smooth. 'Oh, Kate, I will fuck you.' His voice was thick with lust and she quivered with anticipation, feeling his desperate eagerness inflaming her. His hands went beneath her bottom, clutching it tightly, holding her still, ready for him: then in one smooth movement he drove his hard shaft into her, all the way up her, stretching her and filling her so that she felt the softness of his balls pressed against the cleft of her bottom and she cried out with the delicious agony of it. He groaned and his flanks tautened and hollowed as he pulled all the way out and then thrust in again, penetrating her, possessing her.

'Oh God,' he gasped. His eyes were shut, as if he was overcome with the amazement and delight of having her at last. 'Oh God, it's really happening, I'm inside you, I'm inside you at last. Oh God, Kate, Kate.'

Kate arched her back and groaned as she felt his smooth hot shaft sliding in and out of her, in and out, again and again, his body meeting hers with a soft slap each time he forced himself into her. She opened her eyes to look at him as he took her. His face was transfigured with lust and achieved desire, she had never seen anything so beautiful. Pleasure flooded through her in waves, building and building as he moved inside her. 'I'm coming,' she gasped, staring up at his face, 'I'm coming. Please don't stop.' He thrust into her, harder and harder, until she felt her orgasm swell and overwhelm her and she shuddered helplessly beneath him and the feeling of her coming drove him over the top, so that he came too with a shout and she felt him trembling and quivering deep within her spasming body.

Kate squirmed on her chair, writhing as she rubbed her clitoris faster and faster with the middle finger of her right hand and slipped two fingers of the other hand in and out of her wet vagina. She was gasping, turning her head from side to side, the skin of her thighs and stomach fluttering as her orgasm approached. She imagined Alex's taut maleness moving in and out of her, imagined over and over again that blissful moment when he first slipped the broad shelving head of his hot dry shaft between the lips of her vulva and thrust and penetrated her, and at last she came, her whole body stiffening and shuddering.

After a moment she gave a great sigh and straightened in her chair. Nobody had knocked on the door, nobody was at the window; it seemed a bit of an anticlimax after her consuming erotic vision. She licked her fingers, savouring the musky taste of her own arousal, and then wiped them on the inside of her thighs. Fantasy! And what had she ever done to make it a reality? Nothing. Perhaps, she thought to herself, perhaps after next week I might actually do something about him, if I can get up the nerve. He can't be that tied to Tina that there would be nothing to spare for me.

The door handle depressed, lifted and jerked as someone shook at the door. 'Kate?' said a female voice outside. 'Kate, are you there?'

'Christ!' Kate exclaimed. She pulled her skirt down, hastily rearranging and tidying herself, and hurried across the room. Above the low neck of her silk T-shirt her skin was flushed with arousal and she put her hand protectively across it as she unlocked the door.

Bryony stood outside, holding a piece of paper and a thick envelope and looking thunderous. She was a petite pretty woman, no more than five feet two inches tall: Kate was only five foot five, but she looked down into Bryony's face despite her boss's high heels. Bryony was quintessentially Celtic-looking, fair-skinned and redhaired, and despite her small size she was very, very determined. Kate often thought that she was like a weasel, a tiny slender package of utter ferocity, afraid of absolutely nothing. 'Why was the door locked?' Bryony demanded.

'Working on staff reviews,' Kate said smoothly. 'I knew Alex was outside and I didn't want him wandering in.'

'Take them home if you want to do them in privacy,' said Bryony sharply. 'Now look at this.'

She held up the paper and Kate took it, feeling her heart still thumping under her hand. It was an internal memo. The name on the top made Kate purse her lips and whistle: a very, very senior director indeed, Bryony's boss's boss.

'There's an influencing skills course next week,' said Bryony. 'Their tutor has dropped out and they were going to have to cancel. Bob wrote to me because he knew you'd tutored the course several times. I want you to do it.'

'Next week?' Kate repeated. She handed the memo back to Bryony, feeling rebellious. 'Bryony, only yesterday you told me that you want me to do less of the internal training and concentrate on client business. Now you want me just to drop everything and go and manage an internal course?'

'Bob has asked particularly for you,' said Bryony, slowly and patiently as if Kate were stupid, pointing with her immaculately manicured finger at the signature on the memo. 'The senior director of our division, Kate. He's got his protégé on this course, some MBA smart alec or other. Do you want to upset him? I'm sure I don't.'

'I've got a lot on,' Kate said, truthfully.

'Never mind. Someone will cover for you. I'll make sure of that.' Bryony folded her lips sternly and thrust the brown envelope into Kate's hands. 'There,' she said, 'participant details and joining instructions. I'll call Bob now and tell him that you'll be pleased to do it.' She began to turn away, then looked around, frowning. 'You look flushed,' she said accusingly. 'What's been going on?'

'Nothing,' Kate said, trying to look innocent. Bryony frowned at her, then turned and stalked away.

Across the office Bryony's door swung shut with a crash. Kate looked at the brown envelope between her fingers and her lips mouthed silent obscenities.

Copyright © 2000 by Juliet Hastings