DiscreetOfficeServices.Com Chapters 1--2 - Sex Stories

DiscreetOfficeServices.Com Chapters 1--2

... under the warm water to remove sweat, any undiscovered cum, and the smell of sex... I was toweling off when my phone rang. Damn, I'd forgotten to turn it off after calling Marla. As expected, it was Mom. I'd told Mom the plausible lie that employers didn't want to see temp workers on the phone and kept my phone off during the day. It was after 4:30 pm, so I couldn't plead work to not answer.

There was no reason for Mom's call except to be sure I was going to be on time for supper. But my mom is a talker. She can talk forever about nothing. I put my phone on conference call and placed the phone on my bed as I dressed in the 'Suburban Clothes' I'd worn as I left the house this morning. Dressing, I shook my hair out of the bun and finger-fluffed it out while giving appropriate responses to Mom. After pleading having to run for a taxi, I hung up.

My Brownstone apartment is in a perfect location. Three short city blocks from the train station and two blocks the other way from the subway. Another thing that made it perfect was the Coffee Clutch I stopped at on the way to the train. Strong coffee and a pastry would keep me going until dinner. I bought two pastries. I hadn't eaten all day.

The house and suburb I'd grown up in was about a thirty-minute trip by train. I used the time to relax and to ignore the admiring looks from the same old guy I saw on the train many evenings. I'm six-foot tall with long, blonde hair and a slender build. Except for my boobs. They weren't ...

... slender. They were 34DDs that strained the buttons on any blouse I wore. Big boobs can rarely be hidden except under a Winter coat. It was Spring so I just ignored the attention from men my boobs drew. I've had almost four years to practice'ignoring'since my fifteenth birthday when my boobs finally stopped growing. It was a twenty-minute walk from the station to our home. On nice days I rode my bicycle. Today was a nice day, and soon I was coasting to a stop in our garage. Entering the house, I tossed my bookbag on a chair and yelled, "I'm home, Mom. What's for supper?"

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The next morning, my phone rang as I stepped from the train onto the platform. My commute from the suburbs to the city had ended in its predictable way. A call from Mom to catch up on my life since I'd gone to sleep the night before. Because I was always up and away from the house before Mom and Dad were up, morning phone calls took the place of the conversations we used to have over breakfast before school.

The usual pleasantries followed but soon segued into predictable themes, 'When was I going to look for a better job than being an office temp? A job that offered benefits and security. Was I still uninterested in going to college?'She'd just begun to express wishes that I'd find a guy,'I'm not getting any younger. Grandkids would be nice to have around while I'm still young enough to enjoy them.' At that point, pleading being in a hurry, I hung up and checked my messages to make certain I ...