Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Dress Code

Dear Sir or Madam,

No. No one uses that anymore.

To whom it may concern,

So crappy. The phone rang.

“What are you wearing?”

I turned around in my seat and looked right at her. I stood up and stretched the telephone chord as far as I could to the window.

“Take your jacket off,” she said. She was all the way up to the window. Her door was closed. I took it off and hung it on a hook on my cubicle. She got an office. I got another ten years in the cubicle.

“I’ve gotta write just this one email,” I said.

“Then I’ll talk,” she said.

“I’ll hang up.”

“Don’t,” she said. I risked another look at her. Her legs were spreading, her skirt rising. I could just make out a light patch, her panties.

I turned away from the window.

All,

This email is to notify you of


“Can you see me?”

“I’m not going to talk.”

“Look at me, then.”

This memo is to notify you that we have noticed a few discrepancies in

I heard her moan. I looked. Her panties hung by her ankle, her feet against the pane of glass. Her legs were split very far apart and her skirt was raised to her hips. Above the dark grey sensibleness of her office chair were the twin curves of her asscheeks. Above that, dark pink folds of flesh.

discrepancies in the office dress code. In order to maintain an air of professionalism,

“I’m thinking about that time on your conference room table. When you had me bent over it and I was thinking you were going to fuck me, but you didn’t.”

I looked over at her. There was a break in the clouds, the sun shading her in glare.

we ask that our employees adhere to the rules. They are as follows:

I looked again, just as another cloud glided over. She had her fingers pressed into the sides of her pussy, her soft, red clit exposed. She had a lock on her door. I didn’t have a door.

“No, I felt your tongue on me, and it was like a gunshot. You just worked me, so slow, but hard. I could feel every tastebud.” I heard her gasp. Her finger bent down and she began to rub. Her knees pulsed with the contact.

No visible piercings other than ears or the nose for religious purposes. No t-shirts, gym shoes or white socks. No denim or sweatwear of any kind.

Three corrections in one sentence. “Mmm. And you made me come so hard that I thought I’d break a tooth on the table. I remember I could taste it. That it tasted so chemical and lemony. You took my shoes off then. I remember wondering why. You were so gentle about it. I never thought of my feet as sexual objects before, but you handled them with so much… care. Then you rolled my pantyhose down my thighs. I was wondering if I should move. I was wondering if I could move. Ah. Mmm.”

Men: Shirts must have collars and buttons. No logos of any kind will be acceptable.

I put a large, three-ring binder in my lap and tried to concentrate.

“You teased my clit with your cock. I was shivering still, still coming. I wanted to beg you to stick it in, but I couldn’t. They would hear me.”

The last few words were so broken I could barely make them out. I looked at her again. She had an earpiece on. Both of her other hands were being used. One stroking madly on herself, the other holding the butt end of a water bottle, fucking herself with it slowly. The contents splashed.

I peered over the other cubes and found no one looking. She would have liked nothing more than to shock one of these people. She was fired two months previous. My old boss. Corner office now.

Women: No open-toed shoes or sandals. Skirts must cover knees when standing.

“I’m gonna come,” she said. The three-ring fell to the floor. “When you finally… when you finally started fucking me…. Ummm…. You fucked me so hard… you fucked me….”

Hosiery must be worn at all times.

Use common sense. If you think it might be outside of code, it probably is.


My cock, now trapped under my elbow, throbbed painfully.

“Get over here and fuck me! Aw God!”

I looked over and saw her, knees shut, hand buried in her thighs, her mouth twisted, coming so violently I needed a cigarette. My hands shook over the keyboard. I had to spell out the words in my head.

Thank you for your attention in this matter.

Sincerely,

The Human Resources Department


Send.

I ran out of the office like it was on fire, my socks rolling under my heels.

2 comments:

Curvaceous Dee said...

I thought that was a great post! Nice mixture of humour and eroticism.

xx Dee

Droplet said...

Hey, thanks! Good to hear something like that. And nice icon yeh got there. You know what's funny? I based this on the actual dress code email that we got last week at work and I didn't even put the whole thing in because it gets a lot more specific and weird than that ("Appropriate undergarments must be worn at all times."), and people would think I was being unrealistic.