I put my hands on her hips. She swayed in front of me, waiting. I pushed her skirt down. She kicked off her shoes. I followed and slid off my socks. I stepped out of my jeans. She picked them up. Some one caught them. Her skirt was off. I threw that too. I had blind spots, with all the camera flashes.We gyrated around each other. Her breasts rippled. She came to me. Her hands on my hips. We danced. We kissed. She grinned at me. She came into me, We wrapped our arms around each other. Her breasts were warm on my chest. More people had gathered around us. Many people. They watched and photographed.I moved away, my hands above me. She hooked her fingers in my jocks. We moved to the rhythm. Slowly, she slipped my jocks down. There were cheers. People hooted and clapped, they took pictures. My jocks fell to my ankles. I kicked them off. Some one caught them. My cock bobbled. Erect. She took it in her hand. I reached for her hips. She moved back. I couldn’t reach. She leaned forward. My. It has. I’m very sorry for disobeying you.” I sounded like a scolded child after getting my hand caught in the cookie jar which, I guess, was appropriate.“Good girl.”I was thankful she couldn’t see my face or the way I smiled at those two words, warmth flooding through me – not sexual, or at least not just sexual. I felt loved, not that I thought she was in love with me. It was more like the love one would give a cherished pet, which in a way, I suppose I was.Mr. Vandermeer returned a short while later, carrying a small tray with a two glasses, as well as a plate of crackers, cheese, and a cluster of green grapes to snack on. In the state I was in, it was impossible not to watch him as he set it down on Mrs. V’s desk, and wonder if he knew or suspected what was really going on here. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought that I detected a bulge in his jeans. Or perhaps he was just… big. Taking a deep breath, I did my best to erase the thought of him bending me over his wife’s desk and.
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