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From: Nick <nick@cassandra.demon.co.uk>
Subject: Tight Security by Nick (M/F)
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TIGHT SECURITY by Nick (M/F)
 
Copyright Nick@cassandra.demon.co.uk  December 1998)
Note that this story is provided free for entertainment. You may copy it
and distribute to friends but you 
may not make money from it or any part of it without my agreement, nor must
you claim them as your 
own. Each story is copyrighted to me (Nick@cassandra.demon.co.uk) and I ask
you to observe that.
This story is of an adult nature, containing some sexually explicit scenes.
I do not intend either for me or 
the reader to break the law in any country where they may be read, and so
if for any reason the law of 
your country forbids you from reading adult literature, do not read any
further. 


He glanced up from his newspaper as she came in, and then briefly at the
monitor screens before 
returning to his paper. Thus he missed the brief smile she gave him. He was
vaguely aware of the rustle 
of plastic as she emptied his waste bin into her black sack, before leaving
him in peace. It was after all, 
just routine.

A few minutes later she was back, trailing her vacuum cleaner behind her
like some exotic pet.  Again he 
looked up at her as she plugged it in and switched it on. This time he did
see her smile, a little apologetic 
at disturbing him, and he smiled weakly back before returning to his paper
and resuming the article that 
ran alongside the picture of the leggy blonde.

The insistent noise of the vacuum cleaner irritated and distracted him.  He
kept looking up to see if she 
had nearly finished. Well, that would have been his story if anyone had
challenged him. In fact he found 
himself watching her as she bent and stretched pushing the nozzle of her
machine into obscure and 
inaccessible nooks and crannies. She noticed his glazed lascivious looks,
and smiled at him artlessly but 
seeing that he had caught her eye, he simply resumed reading his newspaper
with an embarrassed cough.

"You here all night, luv?" she asked absently as she unplugged the machine
and started looping the 
cable.

"Yep," he didn’t look up from his paper.

"Can’t be much fun. When do you knock off?"

"Seven." He still didn’t look up.

"Must get a bit lonely," she said thoughtfully. She had collected all her
bits and was ready to go.

He said nothing, just shrugged.

"Listen, I’m parched. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee before I go. D’you
want one?"

He looked up at last. She had long curly chestnut hair tied at the back. As
she stood before him, he had 
to admit that she looked attractive. In her cleaners overall and with no
make-up, though, she was 
certainly no film-star. For him such people only existed in pictures next
to articles he pretended to read 
in cheap newspapers, and although she had the advantage that she was real
and standing there in front of 
him, he preferred the safety of the printed image.
A brief break in the story to make an authors note:
S to r y c o p y right belongs to N i c k at c a s s a n d r a dot d e m on
dot c o dot u k as should be 
stated at the top. Sorry for the interruption. Please carry on reading.

"OK."

She smiled and disappeared into the corridor outside before returning with
the coffees.

"Ta, very much," he said.

She sat down on his visitors chair sipping her coffee while he continued
reading the paper, wondering 
vaguely how long it would take her to drink her coffee and go.

"You like this job, then?" she asked breaking the silence.

"S’Okay, I s’pose."

"What’s the pay like?"

"S’Okay."

More silence. He glanced up at the monitor panel, then carried on reading.

Of course he knew nothing about her. He didn’t know why she was there
drinking coffee with him and 
indeed the question never even occurred to him. He wasn’t to know that home
for her was just a lonely 
bed-sit and that after she finished that night all she had to look forward
to was a bus-ride home and yet 
another night watching the television until she felt tired enough to go to
bed.

She simply made him feel slightly awkward. He didn’t see the hungry
desperation in her face because he 
was too absorbed in his newspaper, and even if he had looked at her, he
would probably not have 
registered anything. He had no idea just what was going through her mind as
her longing eyes ignored 
his pot-belly and armpit stains and saw only his sex. As far as he was
concerned, she couldn’t possibly 
be attracted to him. Only Julia Roberts or Demi Moore had ever expressed
any desire for him, and then 
only when his eyes were shut. They had taste and saw him for the real man
he was. The ordinary woman 
was not so perceptive. How could she be?

More silence.

By chance, as much as anything else, he looked up at her as he turned the
page. She sat facing him and 
was now staring absently at his monitor, her hand resting on her thigh.
>From where he was, he could see 
a little white triangle between her legs.

Her eyes met his, and this time she did not smile. He nearly missed it and
would have moved on to the 
sports section oblivious, but the movement was there and unmistakable. As
he glanced down, he saw 
that her legs parting slightly, and her hand moving unambiguously upwards.
His eyes widened reflexively 
and he looked questioningly at her face again. The lack of expression gave
him no answers, but as she 
slowly raised her left foot to the seat, giving him a full view of her sex,
barely trapped beneath lace 
panties, his newspaper slipped to the floor.

He fumbled with his belt, with his fly, and she took a deep breath as his
fleshy member sprang from its 
confines. She slipped her hand inside the top of her overall and under her
bra, to pinch at her hardening 
nipple, biting her lip. Her heart skipped a beat in anticipation as he
arose from his chair and advanced 
towards her, his prick swinging towards her face.

She leaned forward, and pulled him towards her to take his swelling head
into her mouth where she 
flicked it with her tongue. He groaned, pulling himself clear suddenly. She
flinched slightly and gasped 
as she felt his hot fluid spatter across her cheek. Withdrawing her hand
from her breast, she collected his 
semen with her fingers and, with a eyes closed, proceeded to rub it into
her breast.

She cried out loud, thrusting her hips forward as she slid her other hand
inside her panties. She was all 
but oblivious of him as he re-zipped his fly and walked uncertainly back to
his chair. Her fingers 
desperately manipulated her engorged clitoris and spread her delicate moist
folds for him, but he simply 
retrieved his newspaper. Her hips bucked convulsively with her approaching
orgasm as he started to 
read with disappointment how the Arsenal had lost to Wimbledon.

When she had finished herself off, she sat there for a moment, her soaked
panties now a source of 
discomfort and embarrassment. As the warm sensations of passion wore off,
she began to feel dirty and 
humiliated. Slowly she marshalled her thoughts and feelings, to direct them
at what now became the 
object of her loathing. She looked at him venomously, seeing now the
pot-belly and armpit stains, as he 
concentrated ferociously on why his favourite team had lost so dismally.

Bastard!

"Well," and she cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice even, “I’ll be
going now, then.”

There seemed to be no more for her to say or do. He could only bring
himself to nod.

She rose from the damp visitors chair and left his office walking slowly
down the empty corridors to the 
building’s entrance to sign out and leave. She seemed unaware of the
whirring of the motors on the 
monitor cameras which followed her. Her bowed figure moved from screen to
screen on his monitor 
station as he watched her go. Something stirred within him, but he wasn’t
sure what it was and as she 
faded from view there was less and less he could do about it anyway.

He returned to his newspaper.

END

Comments welcome. E-mail Nick~@cassandra.demon.co.uk

For more stories by Nick visit the website:
www.asstr.org/~Nick


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