I accept that writing minutes for our monthly meetings is part of my job - I don't like it, but I accept it. What I don't accept is being told to have them ready for Thursday morning, at four thirty on Wednesday afternoon. The only thing more boring than an Arisan Media Marketing meeting, is writing the bloody minutes of an Arisan Media Marketing meeting.
"As we were unable to reach a concussion to this issue before the alloted time was up, it was agreed to return to the matter next month" Fantastic. . . O.k., get a grip Jane I told myself. It wasn't like I had much else to do with my time. Maybe an evening in front of the TV, eating a microwave meal for one and polishing off another bottle of supermarket plonk. Great, if it wasn't depressing enough to still be at work late into the evening, start thinking about how little life you have outside work.
I needed a break. There was no way this was going to be finished before 8, so I might as well take my time and try not to go crazy. Since everyone else had gone home, I had the place to myself. There was a petty cash pot for business lunch expenses - I would order a pizza, surf the net a while and then finish off at my leisure. Technically the petty cash wasn't for personal use, but it was piss poorly accounted, and ten quid wouldn't go missing. (Perhaps I should have explained I work in Scotland, UK). I drew the line at a bottle of wine, pilfering for a pizza was a formal warning offence, drinking at work was sackable.
Picking up the folder with the minutes, I moved to John's desk, in the private alcove at the back of the open-plan office. John's the boss, and has the only phone which can dial out, and the only computer without restricted internet access. The management are pretty strict on these things, and only the project managers have free access.
I phoned the local Pizza Hut from memory and ordered a large Veg supreme. I wasn't really on a diet anymore, I'd lost two stone recently and felt I was pretty much back in shape - any more and it might start coming off my boobs! For the heck of it, I added a garlic bread, and when they told it me I'd get ice-cream for only another penny on special offer, I took that too. There was no freezer at work, but it wasn't going to last that long!
Whilst I waiting the thirty minutes for delivery, I decided to do a little surfing. I've got an internet connection at home, but it's a crappy slow dial-up, and generally not much good. If I wanted to look anything up or download anything, I used internet cafes. When I switched the computer on, I was faced with a problem I hadn't thought of - logging in. If I logged on as anyone other than John, it would be noted in the history and I wouldn't have the access - but to log on AS John, meant knowing his password.
"Login: JMorton Password: "
Hmmm. . . .I thought for a minute or two. . .
"C.E.L.T.I.C"
No luck.
"G.A.N.D.A.L.F."
No luck again. . . Think Jane, think!
"B.I.G.T.I.T.S"
Bingo! He was so predictable. . .
Right, well the first place to start was a new job! John's homepage was Google, so I typed in my search and got started looking. I noted down a few pages to look at later at home, and a few possible agencies to get in touch with. I started get really into it, and completely forgot it wasn't my login - I'd just bookmarked a whole load of job sites, as John. I didn't really want anyone to know I was looking for a new job, and it wouldn't look good if John found them later.Bugger!
I tried to find the pages in the favourites, but I didn't know where I'd put them - didn't Internet explorer just put them in the Favourites by default?! What the heck were "A", "B" and all the other letters? Panic was beginning to set in, I should never messed about with someone else's computer. I was so anxious, it actually took me a second or two to realise what websites I was viewing. . . John, I knew you were dirty but. . .
"Massive hooter babes suck you dry!"
"Plump Teens fuck hard"
and, interestingly. . .
"Cocks in Frocks"
There was link upon link of porn. To be honest, I became rather hooked looking through it all, it was a wonderful insight into my bosses mind. I'd never really been interested in porn before, I'd read a few raunchy books, worn some sexy underwear for an old boyfriend (I felt so dirty as he jacked off over my basque) but never really porn.
I think it's a human thing to compare yourself to others. I was constantly doing it - I'd gone on a diet because my sister was slimmer than me, not because I was overweight. I always noticed if one of my colleagues had a new hairdo or dressed smarter than me, but I don't suppose I'd ever really thought about what I was doing. It had been a good few years since I'd seen another woman naked, actually, I found myself doing a good few comparisons with these models on the screen.
John had mixed tastes, he liked big breasts first and foremost though. I knew that already, he commented on mine often enough. A sudden chill ran down my spine to think of him visualising me topless. My chest compared well with the girls on the websites, I have firm C-cups which I am proud of. They still have their shape, and I can wear tops without support, not that I often have an opportunity to. They were nicer than some of these women's. I allowed myself a smug smile, then realised what I was thinking. Ah fuck it, maybe there was a new job for me! I laughed out loud, then felt a little embarrassed - I'm sure laughing at your own jokes is a sign of madness!
I imagined myself doing a strip for the camera like the teen on one website, all eyelashes and soft smiles. Pretending to unbutton my blouse, all naive and shy, and letting my skirt fall to the floor. I could feel my nipples hardening, and my pussy responding too. I was rather shocked, I hadn't really expected that. . .
I redid the few buttons I had undone and sat back down at the computer. Get back to it I told myself, and opened the file with the minutes again. But of course, the computer documents with the minutes was in my files as Jane, not my login as John. So I should close down and move back to my computer. Well, maybe I should surf the net a bit more first. I managed a total of three minutes before returning to John's porn stash.
John had a lot of sites bookmarked called "Plump teen lesbians". Two or more teenage girls with ample bosoms stripping, kissing and licking. What instantly struck me as completely different about these sites was that the models looked genuine. The girls weren't airbrushed perfect, and weren't all supermodels. And when they kissed and caressed, it looked like they really meant it, and were really enjoying it.
Up until now, I'd only looked at the pictures, but some of the sites had had movie links too. In my previously rather sheltered life, I'd never actually seen two women making love - my curiosity was roused, as was my sexuality. One site had two particularly attractive young ladies, one blonde, one brunette. There were three movies, the first had a still of them kissing, the second a still of one licking the other's breast, and the third of one of the girls on her back while the other buried her head between legs.
I was still aroused, my nipples were still hard and I was losing my sense of fear, or sensibility, that would usually have stopped me. I had never really considered myself gay, or even thought about it, but there was no denying my heart was racing and my vagina damp from the thought of this website and its movies.
I clicked the first link. The sound made me jump, but it was o.k., there was no else to hear. The girls shared a passionate kiss, running their hands over each other's bodies. Why had nobody ever kissed me like that? The sensuality was obvious. There was no played up action, just a long embracing kiss. The clip lasted about 30 seconds, then repeated. I kept watching, unsure if I was jealous of the feeling in it, the sexuality or the actual kiss. Whatever, I knew there was something there that had been missing from all my relationships.
I clicked the second movie, and another window sprang up. Both girls were topless now, and blonde was carefully running her tongue around the breast of her partner. The excitement was impossible to hide, as was the pure look when they made eye contact. No man would caress a breast like that. My own chest ached to feel a similar touch, a similar kiss. I let the movie repeat and repeat, and slid forward in my seat. My hands damp with excitement, I undid my blouse and let it fall off my shoulders. Softly, almost unaware, I stroked my breasts through the bra, let my imagination run free.
Her breasts were so like mine, it wasn't hard to image it was me being treated so dearly. I unclipped my bra and dropped it on the floor. The sensitivity was out of this world when I touched my freed chest. I was moaning in time to the brunette, feeling every squeeze, every motion of that soft tongue.
I unzipped my skirt. Lifting up my ass a second, I let it fall to the floor also. It had been a warm day, so I was just wearing my panties - which were now soaked through. Within seconds, they joined my pile of clothes. I sat in front of my boss's computer, completely naked. The chair was uncomfortable on my skin, but I didn't care in the slightest. I opened the last movie.
The brunette slowly moved her head from side to side, moaning softly. One hand was clasped tightly with her partner, the other stroked the long blonde hair. There was no doubt this was genuine feeling, not play acting for an audience. At first it was just the back of the blondes head between the open thighs you could see, but the camera panned round until I could see the full view. The bright red tongue moved masterfully around her cunt, teasing and pleasing, flicking and fucking. She smiled as her lover moaned, knowing how much she was giving, then back to work, more passionately that before.
I let out a cry of dismay as the shot returned to the start, then remembered it was simply looping, and it a few seconds I would see it all again. Almost unconsciously, my fingers were on my pussy, masturbating. I watched the movie through four, five, six times - I knew every second. I closed my eyes and listened, being the brunette myself, feeling the tongue on my clitoris, the kiss on my pussy. No man had ever done this to me, it had to be a woman pleasing me. I lost myself completely in the pleasure. . .
I jumped so high I fell off the chair hard onto the floor when the door buzzer went. Fucking Pizza! I scrambled around for my skirt and blouse, and grabbed some money from the jar. Bastard bad timing, I was only seconds from the best orgasm of my life. Trying to look as composed as possible, I walked to the front door and answered it.
"Piz. . . " the delivery door started.
I gave him the exact money, smiled and closed the door on the open-mouthed young man. My mind was still racing, and I suddenly realised I desperately needed to pee. I hadn't really thought about for the last hour, or realised the pizza was very late. Putting the boxes down outside, I went into the Ladies. No wonder the pizza boy looked shocked - I could see in the mirror. Without a bra, I might have well have been topless for all the blouse covered, and I was bright red with obvious aroused nipples. Oh well - maybe I'd given him his jollies!
I composed myself, and even had a nice thought or two for what to do with the ice-cream before returning to John's desk. The movies were all playing, so I dragged them around the screen so I could see all three at once. Quickly I unbuttoned my blouse again and stripped off my skirt. If only John knew "Titty-Jane" was naked in his office right now! Just before I sat down, I glanced up where something caught my eye. . . a little red LED blinked on the security camera. . . aimed right down at John's desk.
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