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Under the Boss's desk

By:Lena Malick


We were flying at thirty thousand feet. I was sitting next to my boss, the man I’d been madly lusting after for the last three years. He was asleep. Not surprising after what we’d been through in the last five days.

His head was tilted against the window, propped on a sliver of a pillow the stewardess provided. The shade was half down, with enough late afternoon light filtering through to softly illuminate his face. I couldn’t remember ever having the opportunity to look at him like this, completely unrestrained. I stared, greedy at the opportunity. His face had smooth, almost aristocratic features, except for his full lips. He had deep set eyes and porcelain-like skin. His arms had prominent veins running their length, the result of a crushing daily workout routine. He was only thirty-one, but already had lines on his forehead and small crows feet spreading from his eyes, violating the smooth texture of his luminous, pale skin.

His mouth was open slightly as he slept, his lips parted. I pictured myself kissing him, as I had imagined a thousand times. Only now I could imagine it as I actually looked at his lips. I leaned in closer, careful not to wake him. I could smell him, the familiar scent of his cologne, combined with a musty, sweet smell. His dark eyelashes, as long as a young boy’s, lay graceful as silk over his eyes. My hair fell forward, nearly brushing his chin.

I sat back in my chair, not trusting my impulses. For three years, I had refrained. I’d not let my feelings be known, always keeping my desire at bay. When he announced his engagement, I celebrated with him. When she broke it off, breaking his heart, I held him as he sobbed. I worked long hours, sometimes weekends. I traveled with him, assisted him, and helped him keep his life in order. “You’re my rock,” he’d tell me. I’d rather be your lover, I’d always think.

I was tired. We’d been on a five-day whirlwind trip, presenting design plans to European partners in three different countries. Delphrey Architecture Group was in the bidding for an ambitious, upscale hotel chain. It was a multi-million dollar, ten-year contract. It would instantly triple the size of the firm. In the last eight years, Calvin Delphrey had transformed his father’s small architecture shop into an international firm. He’d put everything into getting this contract. It would make or break the company. The trip seemed to go well, but we were both exhausted from the stress, the meetings, and the travel. We were told we would know in two days if the contract was ours

I looked again at Calvin. His eyelids twitched. I rested my head back and closed my eyes, escaping into my usual fantasy. I imagined him kissing me, feeling his tongue in my mouth, his stubble against my cheek. I could feel his hand in my hair, pulling me deeper into the kiss, his other hand groping my breasts. Calvin is by nature a gentle and polite man, but in my fantasies I always imagined him taking me roughly, overcome with lust, grabbing and pulling me-possessing me and forcing me to submit.

I began to squirm in my seat, my pulse increasing. I breathed in deep, trying to draw in his scent. He moved. I opened my eyes. His eyes were still closed, but he adjusted in his seat. When he was still again, I realized he had an erection. I panicked for a moment. Ever the competent assistant, I felt I should do something about it. I glanced around and realized that nobody but me could see it-I was blocking the view of anyone that might walk down the isle. I checked to make sure his eyes were closed, then stared at the bulge. It was large, pushing straight up in a v shape, making a tent of his khakis. It seemed like an aberration, a living appendage that had come to life. My heart was pounding now. I was so close I could reach out and touch it. What if he woke? He’d be embarrassed. He was so reserved and proper. I turned away and closed my eyes again. Now I wasn’t imagining him kissing me, I was imagining unzipping his pants and putting his dick in my mouth. Right here and now. The thought made me dizzy. I looked to the side again, stealing another look. I could just make out the outline of the head as it strained against the fabric of his pants.

I slid my hand under the blanket that was on my lap. I couldn’t go up my skirt without reaching too far down. I pulled in my belly and slid my hand under the waistband. My fingers slid over my panties. I massaged my fingers over my clit, rubbing the fabric against it. A flush rolled through my body. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to sit still. I realized I’d let out a slight moan. I sat still; afraid I’d been heard. I wanted to get up and go into the bathroom. I couldn’t. I couldn’t get up and leave him like this. I looked at him again. His erection seemed even bigger, tilted in my direction, like it could smell me. I slowly slid my hand down my crotch. My pussy was wet and slippery, even through my panties.

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