Chloë's Sock

Copyright 2025 by Jalibar62

My submission for the 2025 "On the Job" contest. Just a quick bit of fun. No editors, so no one to blame but myself.

J/J/J/J

Nonplussed - or maybe flummoxed, but I guess it could be both - I stared at the solitary pink sock that lay under my desk. It was a gloomy Friday morning, and I had just walked into my office. Which, by the way, had been unlocked when I came in.

I work in an old building. It's long and narrow, two stories, with a single central hallway running the length of each floor, with offices and small labs on both sides. There's a lot of confidential work that goes on, so there's an ID scanner with a keypad that requires a code to get into the building. There are no windows, and all the office doors stay closed.

They haven't bothered to install keypads on individual office doors; rather, they're secured by a standard deadbolt and key. As another security measure, the keys for each department are the same. Might sound a bit strange, but the justification is that if the facilities people or IT team need to get in, then the procedure is for them to knock on adjacent offices until they find someone who can let them in, and then that person is also obligated to stay and monitor their activities and lock up after they leave. Yeah, not a great system, but there you have it.

An unlocked door to an empty office is a definite security violation, and I was positive I had locked it when I left on Thursday. Almost positive. Shit, it would result in a letter of caution in my file if this was discovered. So... first, figure out who it was? Because of the unlocked door, and the keys, the principle of parsimony - a. k. a. Occam's Razor - said it was probably someone in my group.

I work with a team of eight people. There are three software engineers, three developers, a tech writer who we share with another group, and me, who serves double duty as logistician and group lead. I'm a qualified systems engineer as well, but the team is more than capable, and my engineering role is mostly relegated to decision-making and coordinating with the hardware team and the customer. We develop 'solutions' for the government and the military - not anything super-secret, but still, enough said about that for now.

I sat at my desk, going over each of my team members in my head. The engineers are Samir, Jonathan, and Liam. The developers are Rajesh, Fred, and Chloë. Liz is our tech writer, and I'm Mel.

I already had a pretty good idea of who it belonged to... based on the pink color and the anime character on it, all signs pointed to my newest hire, a mousy little software developer named Chloë Hu. Born in the US to Chinese immigrant parents, valedictorian of her high school class, scholarship to Tech.

Chloë had interned with us the previous summer, and had come on board full-time just four months ago after her graduation from Tech. She had just turned 22. She was a tiny little thing, with long black hair that she usually wore down - I think mostly so she could hide behind it. Her body was a mystery; she wore baggy sweatshirts and cargo pants most of the time. A typical introvert. But a very good software developer. She'd picked up our methods in no time.

I'm in the office by 0700 usually, but when I logged into the security system to check the door log, I saw that this morning, Chloë's ID had been used at 0430. Curious, I wandered down to the SCIF where the team did their heavy lifting. I saw her glance at me as I entered, then quickly look away, keeping her head down and focused on her monitors. She was the only one in there.

I moved to where I could see her feet. Busted. One ankle was tellingly bare.

"Good morning, Chloë," I opened.

She mumbled something, keeping her eyes on her screen, fingers busy on her keyboard. She seemed to pull her shoulders in, trying to appear even smaller than she already was. Her long black hair obscured much of her face.

"In early today, I see." Captain Obvious, that's me...

She bobbed a nod of agreement.

Folding my arms, I leaned back against Samir's workstation and asked, "So, how's your part of the new project coming?"

Her fingers faltered to a halt, and she whispered, "G-good..." and her voice completely failed her as she finally looked at me, to see me dangling a single sock from my fingers. I very overtly looked down at her feet, then back up to her face.

Unfortunately, just at that moment, Samir came in.

"Hey guys, good morninggg..." and just as Chloë had a moment before, he stopped talking as he observed us staring at each other. "Umm... what's up?"

When I heard the door, I quickly shoved Chloë's sock into my pocket. Turning, I said, "Not much! Good morning, Samir. I saw that Chloë had come in early and I stopped in to see how she's progressing on the new project."

Well, with that, he began jabbering excitedly about all the things they'd done over the past week, ever since we'd been handed this new assignment. I listened carefully, asked a few questions, then thanked him. Chloë hadn't opened her mouth once. Not unusual for her, actually.

"Good work," I told him, meaning it.

Samir beamed.

I thanked him and headed for the door, but just as I was about to exit, I swiveled to look at her.

"Chloë?" Her head snapped around, eyes wide.

"My office, please?" I said politely, making it a request, just like I would any of my group when I wanted to speak with them.

"Yes, ma'am," she whispered.

J/J/J/J

Yeah, I know. Ma'am? Sorry, I wasn't trying to be deceitful; my name really is Mel. Short for Melisandre - and not that freaky Red Witch from Game of Thrones, either. No, for one I was born before those books came out, and for two, my mom loved classical music, and one of her favorites was Debussy's opera, "Pelléas and Mélisandre". She told me that she was pretty sure I was conceived after a performance she attended when she was living in Wales in 1992.

Gah, TMI, Mom! But yeah, do the math... Sperm meets egg in '92, born in '93... you figure it out. And apparently, I'm half Welsh, for whatever that's worth. Whee.

She'd followed my sperm-donor there after he finished his 'semester abroad' and returned to Swansea. Actually, he was from a town nearby called Mumbles. When she told me that, I started to laugh, and then when she added that the town name was derived from the French 'mamelles', well... I'm afraid I spit my tea all over the kitchen table.

She chuckled with me. Then, more soberly, she told me that while he was very charming and good looking, he was a bit of a man-child and had 'done a runner' when she quietly informed him that she was pregnant. Not her proudest moment, she admitted, but the joy of having me eclipsed any possible regrets.

There she was, dumped and alone in a strange - beautiful, but strange - country. It was a pretty obvious choice to come back home. And it was me and her against the world, from the time I was hatched until I left for college. I think she's dating some now, and I'm happy for her. Shit, she's only in her early 50s. A lot of life left in the old girl, and she's probably my best friend.

She once told me that she knew how to get in touch with the man-child if I ever wanted, but I figured if he couldn't be bothered, then why should I?

There was a brief period during my teens when I discovered theatre, and was convinced I wanted to be an actor, and had haughtily insisted on my full name. Fortunately, I came to my senses, and now I was quite happy being just 'Mel'. I got pretty good at dealing with the misogynists who were surprised that I didn't have a dick, when meeting me for the first time. Sorry to disappoint.

But I digress.

J/J/J/J

About five minutes after I left the SCIF, there was an almost imperceptible tap-tap on my door.

"Entrez, s'il vous plaît."

Okay, maybe there was still a little theatre in my blood, and I was feeling French today. I had minored in it at school. Ne jugez pas!

Like she was heading for her own execution, Chloë slunk into the room. Her fingers were twining together, and her head - as usual - was down, face obscured by a curtain of hair. She stood apprehensively before my desk.

I got up, put the "Classified Work in Progress" sign on the outside of my door, then closed it and deliberately turned the deadbolt. The sudden "clunk" made her jump.

Returning to my seat, I crossed my legs and regarded her. I held up the sock again. "This is yours, yes?"

That dark waterfall of hair bobbed in time with her nod.

"Want to tell me why you were in here? Sitting at my desk, if where I found this is any indication?"

I was met with mortified silence.

"Chloë, my door was unlocked! That's a security violation, you know. Do you want that on my record?"

She frantically shook her head from side to side, tresses flying. "No! I'm sorry! I... I thought... I thought I heard s-something and I p-panicked!"

"Still doesn't answer why you were in here. With your shoes off."

"Please..." If anything, her whisper was even more subdued than before. "Please don't make me say..."

Now I was confused. As I stared at her in puzzlement, I saw her eyes flick up at me, then back down. Her fidgeting got worse.

Something... there was something... I got this weird feeling that she wanted me to push her. To force her to tell. Don't ask me why.

I went with my gut.

"Fine." I picked up my phone, then gazed levelly at her. "You know you're still on probation, right?" It was true. She'd only been full-time for four months. Two more to go.

Well, that certainly got her attention. In a panic, she blurted, "N-no, please!"

I just looked at her, sock in one hand, phone in the other. "Choose, Chloë."

Hanging her head, she pointed a trembling finger at the sock. I put the phone down, crossed my arms, and waited.

"I..." was all she got out before she shut down again. When nothing more was forthcoming, I started to reach for the phone again.

Just as my fingers touched the handset, she gave a defeated sigh and murmured something. Too soft for me to catch.

"Sorry, what?"

"I was masturbating!" she finally admitted, and I don't think I'd ever seen another human being look as pitiful as she did at that moment.

But on top of that, to say I was stunned would be the understatement of the century.

"Ummm... what? What did you say?" I blinked at her. "Did you say you were... masturbating?"

She nodded miserably.

"In my $1400 leather Herman Miller chair?" It was the first thing that came to mind, sorry. The chair was fine. I hadn't noticed any stains, or odors, or... As my mind wandered down that path, clearly lost, she winced and looked sick to her stomach.

"I'm sorry... I p-put a t-towel down, I'll pay to h-have it cleaned..."

I waved that away. "But why, Chloë? I mean, if you need to be alone, can't you... don't..."

She shook her head. "I still live with my parents, my grandparents, my aunt, and her two kids. I still share a room with my sister. Someone is always home."

"Wow. Okay, no alone time at home." My mind was racing, and it occurred to me that there was more to this story than just trying to find a place where she could be by herself. Not having her own space at home sounded just a little weak.

"Chloë... I still don't understand. Why my office?" Then I looked more closely at the sock. Oh, fuck. Could it be? It was only a sock, so it was hard to tell, but the image on it appeared to be of a tall blonde woman.

"Who's this character? Anime?" I held it out, and she took it gently.

Staring at it, a little smile peeking through, she perked up a little. "Yeah, kinda. Chinese anime, it's called 'donghua'. This is Qian Renxue. She pronounced it 'chee-EN ren-shweh'.

I wasn't sure but I had a feeling. "Chloë... is this... how you see me?" I mean, I was pretty tall, and blonde - but... really?

Her eyes flicked to the framed photo that I keep on my desk.

It's of me, rock climbing, taken the spring before last. I had invited Gwen; we had been dating for about a month at the time, and even though it was only April, the day was gorgeous, and it was a chance to show her a little more about me. I was hoping she'd take an interest in the sport. Turns out she could do without the climbing, unless it was all over me - her words - she said watching my body flex and move really got her going. I could live with that.

Gwen took the picture with a telephoto lens. I'm wearing light gray climbing pants and a lavender tank top that bares my midriff. The entire outfit is skintight, and you can see every muscle. I'm hanging from a jug - a good, solid handhold - by my left hand, reaching for my chalk bag with my right, so my body is turned slightly away from the rock face, and you can see my right nipple clearly through the fabric. Gwen said watching me got her excited? Well, knowing she was down there, eyes on me, and getting worked up? That turned me on just as much. I do look pretty hot in the photo, if I do say so myself. And I'm a decent climber, maybe a 5.8 or 5.9 on the YDS.

Gwen was my ex. My mind went back to our last weekend away; I felt like we were starting to drift apart, and we were trying to see if the relationship was salvageable.

We'd been together for a few months shy of a year and a half - not terribly long in the grand scheme of things, but long enough to have an idea of whether there was going to be a future. Personally, I thought we were probably done, but mama didn't raise no quitter, and I owed it to Gwen to at least try.

Her biggest gripe was what she felt was my lack of emotion. She accused me of 'not doing the little things.' When I asked what that meant, she kind of waved her hand in exasperation, saying if I didn't know, she couldn't explain. And I couldn't argue with her. I just wasn't a heart-on-my-sleeve type of person, and she was. It's actually one of the things I liked about her. I thought that I tried, but apparently not hard enough. And unfortunately, this is who I was.

We talked. She cried and I didn't. She took that as confirmation of her fears. "Look, if you're not sad about this, then I think we're wasting our time," was her conclusion. I told her I was sad, and I was sorry if she couldn't see that. But I agreed; we were probably just on two different pages.

She asked me if I ever loved her, and when I didn't immediately answer, she took that as further proof. When I asked her the same question, she said that she did.

"But you never said it," I argued.

"I showed you, though. And you didn't."

We did sleep together in the big bed up in the loft of the lakeside cabin I'd reserved, but that's all we did. Well, she tossed and turned, and I stared at the ceiling, wondering if this was going to be my life.

In the morning, she asked if there was any point in staying any longer, and when I silently shook my head, she just nodded. We silently packed and drove back to town. I dropped her off, one last hug, a whispered, "I'm sorry, Gwen. You deserve better." She didn't answer, just slowly turned and went inside.

J/J/J/J

Anyway, that last - well I can hardly call it a confrontation - happened over two months ago. Two long, lonely, battery-powered months. And Chloë's apparent infatuation - besides catching me completely by surprise - was giving me all kinds of impure thoughts. My brain was vapor-locked, and suddenly the image of a little Mel-shaped demon appeared on one shoulder. She was wearing hooker heels, fishnets, and a leather bustier. Her angelic counterpart poofed into existence on the other shoulder, complete with halo and white vestments.

The naughty mini-Mel smirked, "Look how cute she is! She wants you! Fuck her brains out!"

Hands on hips, nice Mel shouted, "She's your subordinate! It's wrong!"

Naughty Mel chortled. "I'd like to 'subordinate' her!"

I laughed; that was pretty good.

Nice Mel countered, "She's a child!"

In my ear, naughty Mel whispered, "Mommy!"

Oh, my fuck! My thighs clamped together.

Naughty Mel dusted her hands together, and crowed triumphantly, "My work here is done." She gave nice Mel the finger while sticking out her tongue, and vanished in a poof of hot pink smoke, exactly the same color as Chloë's sock! Nice Mel shook her head sadly and disappeared as well.

While this battle of conscience unfolded in my head - it was all in my head, right? RIGHT? - Chloë continued to gush. "You're so pretty, and so strong... Qian Renxue is the same way; she's confident like you, and she cares about the people who follow her, and she always does the right thing."

I snorted softly at that. Right thing? Hah, not always. Right at this very moment, for example.

She didn't hear me, and continued, "That picture of you... it's so... fucking... hot!" She clapped her hands over her mouth. "Sorry!"

I laughed out loud. "It's fine, I've heard the word before," I said a bit sarcastically.

But... holy shit! Was she serious? Just what the fuck was going on in that head of hers? What was going on in mine? More importantly, why was I getting so turned on? Was it the thought of her in my chair, writhing under her own fingers, while thinking of me? Or was it her implicit submissiveness? Both? At that moment, I didn't fucking care. All I could feel was a current of heat flowing through me, centered right... at... my...

"How long?" I asked, a little huskily.

"Huh?" Clearly, she was not expecting that question.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Umm..." again her eyes flicked up at me, then away. "Maybe... the last month? Once a week?"

"You asking or telling? Hah!" I smirked at her. "So, four times?"

She nodded again, but whispered, "Maybe a couple more."

I thought about that. Imagining her touching herself. She was becoming increasingly anxious as my gaze lingered.

"Ms. Blalock..." she started to say.

"Show me," I interrupted, leaning forward. Shocking myself, but... it was too late to take it back now.

"W-what?" Chloë squeaked.

"You heard me. You like to jill off in my chair?" I got up and stood to one side. Indicating the vacated seat with one hand. "Here's your chance. Show. Me."

She stared at me. Well, at my chest. As I said, Chloë was tiny. Sitting, I could nearly look her in the eye. Standing, as I was now, especially with heels, I towered over her. The top of her head barely reached my chin, and my boobs were clearly showing the effects of my nascent excitement. Her eyes were locked on; big and round and scared and... something else. It hit me, what that look meant. I had her.

Grinning lasciviously, I played with the top button of my blouse, then repeated once more, "Sit your cute little ass down and get busy, you little coquine."

She gulped and moaned at the same time, sagging in on herself. I grabbed her to keep her from falling and deposited her squarely in my chair. Turning it to face me rather than the desk, I dragged my guest chair around in front of her, sat down, and waited.

"You... you want me to... now?" she squeaked.

"Yes, please. Wait, hang on." I grabbed the phone again, and her eyes widened. "Relax," I told her and dialed an extension.

"Samir? I've got... something urgent... to take care of this morning. Can you please tell everyone that I need to cancel the stand-up?" I glanced at Chloë speculatively.

"Mm hmm. No, I've got it, thanks for the offer though."

"Yep, sure, you can have it without me, no problem. Thanks."

Hanging up and turning to her, I smirked, "He wanted to know if I needed help."

She goggled at me, and I laughed. "Don't worry, ma petite polissonne douce. I don't share my toys."

Oh, her blush was so adorable. I made a 'let's get going' gesture with one hand.

Face as red as a ripe Dorenia, she slid one hand down inside her cargo pants. Whimpering in shame, rather than arousal, she began to feebly move it back and forth.

"Oh, no, no, no," I laughed. "Not like that. I want to ssseeeee," I sibilated. I heard myself say it, all the while wondering, 'what the fuck? Who was I turning into?'

Meanwhile, Chloë froze. Eyes again locked on mine. "See? W-what do you m-mean?"

"What do you think I mean? You're a smart girl!"

"You w-want me to... s-strip?"

"See, I knew you were smart," I beamed at her like a star pupil, and she actually gave me a hesitant smile in return, which - if I'm being honest - nearly broke my heart. But I was pretty sure she wanted this, and to be honest, I did too. Surprised the fuck out of me, but yeah. I was getting off so hard on bossing her around!

Moving forward, I slid my knees between hers and deliberately nudged them apart. Kneeling, I slid my hands up her thighs and whispered, "here, let me help."

She was nearly hyperventilating as I pulled her shoes off and started to undo her pants.

"Shhh, breathe! You're no good to me if you pass out."

She gulped but managed to take a deep breath and calmed somewhat.

"C'est ma bonne fille." I worked my fingers under her waistband and started to tug.

"Lift your butt."

She did, and I worked her pants and panties down, my knuckles gliding along the smooth... so smooth... skin of her ass and thighs. I purposefully kept my eyes lowered until I had drawn the garments over her feet. Slowly I ran my hands back up her calves, then her inner thighs, and stopped there, stroking the soft flesh with my thumbs.

Then I raised my eyes.

Oh, my. She was exquisite. Neat, tidy, trimmed, and glistening. I sat back on my heels and looked up at her face. She was still bright red, but the blush seemed to be fading, and she was calmer, amazingly.

"Okay, now for the third time, show me, Chloë. No more dawdling." I grinned, waggling a finger at her, and she whimpered, "o-okay..." She started to move her hands downward, but then she surprised me. Instead of continuing to her sex, she grabbed the hem of her heavy T-shirt and pulled it over her head. Then, reaching behind herself, she unhooked her utilitarian bra and dropped it on the floor beside the chair.

Holy wow, her breasts were as amazing as her pussy! Not large, but bigger than mine. Perfectly shaped, with light brown nipples that were currently contracted into two fat little bullets. Her stomach was flat, and her legs were beautifully sculpted. She was gorgeous, and I told her so, while wondering how the hell she had hidden this body. She was prone to baggy clothes, but still. Anyway, I shifted a little closer as I let my eyes rove appreciatively.

She ducked her head, but I could tell she was pleased. But she knew what I expected - what I insisted on - and again, she began to move her hands downward.

Unfortunately, when she looked down, that hair...

I tsked and stood, grabbed a hair tie from my desk drawer, and walked around behind her, where I began to gather her raven-dark tresses together, running my fingernails over her scalp, making her shiver. I took my time, enjoying the feel of those silken strands. I would love to take my time and braid it into something unique, but for now, I finished a simple ponytail, and it fell down her back like a cable of midnight. Hmmm, apparently I was feeling poetic, as well as French.

I bent and murmured in her ear. "There; now I can see your eyes."

She trembled, and then moaned, as I stroked my fingertips over her cheek. In slow motion, she turned her head toward my hand, but I moved away, back between her knees. Even closer than before, and her scent was nearly overwhelming.

Without any further encouragement, I noticed wryly, she again moved toward her center. She began simply. One finger running up and down her slit, repeated several times before slipping between her folds.

Then her second hand joined, and with two fingers of that hand, she spread her outer lips apart, revealing herself to me completely. Her head fell back against the headrest as she continued to caress and stroke.

No, no, no, that wouldn't do. Wouldn't do at all.

"Open your eyes, Chloë. I want you to look at me." I inched closer, grazing my fingernails - what little I had - up and down her thighs, and could see goosebumps rising in their wake.

She complied, eyes heavy with lust, and her pace quickened. Two fingers moving ever faster over her clit, while the other hand slid up to pinch and pull at her nipples.

After watching her for a few more moments, I decided I wanted a bit more... direct... involvement in this little tableau. I raised a finger up toward her mouth.

"Suck," I ordered.

She obeyed, eagerly swallowing the digit, her tongue swirling around it. When I began to withdraw it, she sucked harder, reluctant to let go, and it came out with a slight pop. She made a sound of disappointment, that quickly became an indrawn hiss of anticipation when she saw where my finger was headed.

Turning my hand palm up, I pushed my finger into her, one long, slow invasion, all the way to the hilt. I have long fingers, and strong hands - rock climbing, remember? And as I went to work, her eyes went wide.

"Oh my God," she groaned, her eyes locked on mine as I slid a second finger inside and began gently twisting. Searching for, then tap-tap-tapping on that lovely soft, slightly rough patch behind her clitoris.

"Oh... oh... oh..." she panted, and her hips began to rock. I began to move in and out, giving a little swirl at the top of my upstroke, gradually increasing speed. Chloë tried to keep eye contact, but within a few moments, her head again fell against the headrest, and her back arched like a bow. A high-pitched keening sound came from her mouth, and I felt her internal muscles clamp down on my fingers.

I watched her, awed, as she shuddered through her orgasm. So gorgeous, the pink flush across her chest, like dawn's rise on her alabaster skin. She shook, and trembled, and made mewling noises, gripping the armrests of the chair. I felt her vaginal muscles relax and I slid my fingers out of her, and she made an 'ahhhh' sound of regret.

I just knelt there as she came back to me, to herself, and opened heavy-lidded eyes.

"Holy wow," she whispered, "I don't think I've ever come that hard in my life!"

"I pushed you pretty hard," I admitted, and she smiled shyly.

"I... I liked it. I don't know how, it's like you knew just how to... like you said... push."

I let her recover for a bit, gently stroking the bare skin of her thighs. Waiting. When I thought she might finally begin to speak, I interrupted.

"Well. As fun as that was, it was also very naughty. And you've been doing that in my chair? You're a very naughty girl, Chloë. Très coquine." I regarded her as her eyes again went wide.

"Whatever shall I do with you?"

She blinked, then again opened her mouth.

"Spanking! Why yes, what a good idea! Thank you for suggesting it, Chloë." I stood.

"Up, up. Come on." I held out my hands, and bemusedly, she took them. I lifted her upright. Stepping in close, I wrapped my arms around her, running my hands up and down her back, feeling her tremble and lean into me. I then slid them farther down, cupping her butt. I gave both cheeks a squeeze - so firm - and then a sharp swat. The sound echoed in my office, along with her squawk of surprise.

I let her go and admired the red marks that were already forming. "Oh yes, very nice," I purred. "Very nice indeed. Over the desk with you, Chloë."

"W-what?"

I huffed. "Bend. Over. My. Desk! Really, Chloë, I'm sure I didn't stutter." I fixed my gaze on her.

"Y-yes, Ms. Blalock." She shuffled forward, leaned over, and nervously placed her forearms on my desk. She looked anxiously back over one shoulder at me.

So fucking adorable. I stepped up beside her, my left hand slowly caressing the perfect hemisphere of her right cheek. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked beseechingly up at me. I smiled gently, and then... let my grin grow wicked. Her eyes began to go wide, and I let my hand fall.

'Ahh!'

She yelped and jumped. I turned around so I was facing her rear. I could reach both sides now, and I began an unsteady rhythm, so that she couldn't anticipate exactly when the next blow would land.

'Oh!'

Pause.

'Ow!'

Pause.

Pause. 'Oh- oh, you trick-'

'Ahh!'

'Ooh... woo... please...'

She cried out after each spank, but when I reached down between her cheeks, my finger came back dripping.

"You're making far too much noise, Chloë. Really."

Hmm... what could I gag her with? I spied her panties on the floor, but then I had an even more devilish idea. I quickly disrobed, and turned to Chloë, who was staring at my nude form, goggle-eyed, her sore bottom clearly forgotten.

"Open," I ordered. When she did, I pushed my own boy-shorts into her mouth. They weren't exactly dry either, and she moaned when she tasted me on them.

Now I walked around behind her, facing her ass and soaking sex. I inhaled through my nose, reveling in her scent. Turning, I grabbed a tube of lotion from my desk drawer and mischievously squeezed a cold dollop onto each cheek. She gave a muffled cry of surprise, but as I began to gently massage the cream into her abused skin, her cries turned to soft whimpers.

Continuing to massage, I found myself moving closer and closer, unable to resist the lure of her natural perfume. I couldn't see, but I felt her head shoot up as my tongue made that first tentative contact.

I took my time, savoring her. A long, slow caress of my tongue from her clitoral hood down - well, up, actually, considering her position - almost to her perineum. She shuddered and moaned as I did it again. And again.

Adjusting my position slightly, I spread her labia apart with my thumbs and began to lick in earnest. Chloë was rocking her hips, as I tried to wriggle my tongue into her vagina as far as I could, then withdrew and resumed licking, then sucking her labia, covering her entire sex with my mouth... shifting my hand so that one thumb was attacking her clit, making circles and rubbing back and forth, finding what she liked best, while the other snuck up to press gently against her nether opening.

Her head shot up again, as I made contact there, and I grinned to myself. Stopping my oral ministrations for a moment, I once again held out a finger to her, and this time, she knew what to do. But it wasn't her pussy that I was invading; and she squealed in surprise when my finger slipped past her tight ring and into her bowels.

Twisting and pumping with that finger, while still rubbing her clit with my other thumb, Chloë began to whisper under her breath, "oh oh oh, oh fuck, oh my God... don't stop, please, please, keep fucking me, oh oh..."

"No one... has... ever... done that," she puffed, in time with my thrusting digit, pushing back against it, and I said, "I bet there are a lot of things you've never done, and I'm gonna show them all to you."

"Oh God," she whimpered, and her head dropped to the desk.

I shocked both of us, I think, when I replaced my finger with my tongue, rimming her.

"Oh, oh, oh... Ms. Blalock..."

I chuckled. "I've got my tongue in your ass, Chloë, I think you can call me 'Mel'." Then, I had another wicked thought. "Better yet... call me... Qian Renxue." And she exploded in orgasm.

J/J/J/J

Chloë was snuggled in my lap, and I thought she might be nearly asleep. I was stroking her hair, and she was breathing slowly and evenly.

After several minutes, she shifted slightly, and asked, "Would you really have fired me? If I didn't tell?"

I kissed the top of her head. "No, kitten. You're way too good at your job." That wasn't the only reason.

I felt her smile.

"And... tell me I'm wrong, but I think you wanted me to make you tell, yeah?"

She stiffened momentarily, but then relaxed, and I felt her head nod against my chest.

I had one hand under her thigh, keeping her from sliding off my lap, and I pinched her butt.

"Ow!" she jumped, rubbing the spot. "Meanie..." she pouted.

I grinned and kissed her again. "So, how do we fix your little problem? You can't keep sneaking in here."

She sat up, but stayed on my lap. "I know..." She sounded pitiful.

"So tell me what's going on at home." I pulled her back into my arms, and she sighed contentedly.

"Remember I still live with my parents, my grandparents, my aunt, and her two kids. I still share a room with my sister. They're all after me to get married. Well, my sister just wants me out of the room, but my parents! Ugh!"

She affected a high-pitched whine and scrunched up her face. "'Why you no find nice Chinese boy? Get marry?' Her favorite is, 'I no get younger; gonna die soon! You need make me Grandma!'"

I clapped my hands over my mouth.

"It's not funny!" Chloë whined petulantly.

"Oh, come on, it's a little funny," I hugged her, and she grinned.

"But come on, she doesn't really talk like that, does she? You make her sound like Mrs. Swan!"

"When she speaks English? Yep."

More soberly, I asked, "So how do you handle it? The dating, I mean."

"I lie to them."

I raised my eyebrows.

She nodded. "Yup, I tell them that I'm going out. I dress up nice - but not too nice!" She put on her Chinese mom voice again, "Where you think you go, dress like that! You embarrass whole family, look like street walker hose beast!"

I was holding my sides at this point. "H-hose beast???" I spluttered.

Chloë shrugged. "I don't know where she comes up with this stuff. Or why she yells at me in her crazy English. I speak Mandarin perfectly well. Even if my parents make fun of my accent."

My laughter tapered off, and I gently prodded, "So, you would go... where?"

"Usually the gym. Work off some of my frustration. Sometimes the library. I keep extra clothes in the trunk of my car."

"How'd you pull off the... uhh... boyfriend?"

"My friend Tian. He's pretty good-looking, but he's as gay as a glitter bomb at a pride parade!"

I snorted laughter at her simile, as she continued, "So it works out for both of us. I feel bad for lying to my parents... and his... but..." she shrugged sadly.

I sighed. "What am I gonna do with you?"

She just lifted her gaze and stared at me. "W-whatever you want, Ms. Blalock," she whispered huskily, and I nearly orgasmed right there.

She was still curled up in my lap, her face tucked into my neck, and I began to run my hands over her again. "Okay, enough of the pity party. I have an idea." Chloë's eyes got big again. "Oh God..."

"Up you go. And turn that fan on please?" Old building, remember? It was early fall, but still quite warm in this part of the country, and the A/C often struggled. Besides...

"It smells like pussy in here," I smirked, and Chloë gasped, mortified.

"Come on." I helped her get dressed - pants and shirt, anyway... I stuffed her panties and bra in my desk drawer, whispering 'souvenir' and Chloë's blush deepened.

Being Friday, almost anyone who could telework, did so. I was pretty sure we wouldn't be accosted. I stuck my head out of my office, glancing up and down the hallway, then grabbed Chloë's hand.

"Head for the high bay," I ordered. "I'm right behind you. Go!"

She obediently scampered off, as I locked my door and followed at a brisk walk. Thinking to myself - a bit bemusedly, if I'm being honest - that under her shy exterior, I was finding a girl who was funny, warm, affectionate, and gorgeous. And for some reason, I think she liked me. I found myself smiling.

J/J/J/J

The high bay was an area at one end of the building where they'd combined the first and second floors into one large space. It was a combination of storage racks and also a working area for the hardware team. This week, they were offsite, wrapping up a demo of our latest project, and I was certain it would be empty.

What I didn't count on was the conscientiousness of our tech writer. Arguably she had the job most suited for teleworking, yet she insisted on coming into the office. And... just as my new playmate and I were headed down the hall, her door opened.

She saw me, and began a greeting, then noticed mon air débraillé. Then my lack of footwear. Catching my glance at Chloë, she followed my gaze and couldn't help but see her similar condition.

Shaking her head, she grinned, smirked, then winked, the tart, and went back into her office.

Chloë had frozen, and was staring back at me, wide-eyed. I shrugged and started walking again.

J/J/J/J

Upon entering the high bay, Chloë stared. Being so new, she hadn't spent any time in here yet, other than a quick tour as part of her introduction.

She looked around curiously, but quickly focused on the large articulated framework that dominated the space. It looked sort of like a robotic praying mantis, with a couple of extra arms. The Air Force had asked us to develop a self-directed, adaptable device that was capable of lifting, loading, and moving a wide range of objects, and to do it with minimal human intervention. My team was responsible for programming the thing.

In deference to the military's obsessive need to produce acronyms, we had named it AIMS - Autonomous Inventory Management System - and anyway, calling it a forklift was like calling the Biltmore a house. And the team had started referring to it as "Amy".

The hardware team, along with Liam and Rajesh, had taken the test prototype with them - they wanted to see it in action in their facility - but the beta version of our project was still in the work area.

After booting up the operator's console, I walked over to the device, casually disrobing, and began a short climb. I know what I look like - Gwen took a lot of pictures - and I could feel Chloë's eyes on me.

A thought occurred to me, and I grinned to myself as I hung from one of the lifting points by one hand. I let my body turn slightly, mirroring the pose from the photo in my office, and cut my eyes at her.

She was standing stock-still, staring raptly, one hand rubbing her breast. She noticed me looking at her, and she turned red. I grinned, then performed something called a one-armed campus, where I kept my original grip, while swinging my other hand to another lifting point. I was now hanging from both hands, my arms in a wide 'V'. I could maintain this hold for a while, but...

"Chloë, go to the console and press the button marked 'Lower Forks Two' please."

She jumped, then moved to obey. They extended when she hit the button, and I was able to rest my feet on them, supporting my weight. I must have looked like some sort of Vitruvian Woman, spread wide for her.

And she didn't waste the opportunity. Dashing forward to stand before me, her face at pussy level. I not-so-subtly rocked my hips forward, but she clearly wanted to enjoy this. Reaching out, then looking up at me, as if seeking approval. At my nod, she began to touch me, running her hands up and down my thighs, first the front and then the back, sliding them up to cup my ass. Looking up at me as she squeezed.

My breath hissed as she next slid up over my stomach, slowly slowly up to slide between my breasts, then circle outward, down, around, then back up, this time directly massaging, her thumbs rubbing back and forth over my nipples.

"So beautiful," she murmured. She rubbed and stroked and pulled at my breasts for a few more moments, before sliding back down to my hips. Hands resting there, eyes captivated by what was before her. My feet were a little more than shoulder-width apart, and I did feel a little self-conscious at how lewdly I was on display. Just a sparse covering of blonde, and I knew I was soaking wet.

She moved forward, eyes flicking up to mine, then back to my... and then I lost all coherent thought as she literally dove into me. Hands gripping my ass, pulling us together. I was shocked at how... almost violently... she had begun. It was as though she had lost all control, and in mere moments, her face was buried in my pussy, her tongue swiping furiously at me.

"Chloë... oh shit... s-slow... slow down, baby," I whimpered. "I'm not going anywhere..."

She did, she slowed down a little, but she also shuffled a bit closer and wrapped her arms more tightly about my hips. Her hands were kneading my ass, and her nose was rubbing my clit while her tongue delved deep. I had gotten pretty worked up while watching her earlier, and the spanking and oral I had performed. Combined with just how risky this was, the fear (the thrill) of being caught... had me very quickly on the edge of what felt like a huge climax.

"Fuck... Chloë... oh shit... oh shit..." I could feel my legs starting to tremble. Chloë moved slightly and I felt her lips close around my clit, her tongue lashing at it.

"Chlooooooeeeee..." One long drawn-out wail. And then I did explode. Shuddering, hanging on desperately with one hand, the other sliding to the back of her head, holding her... just there... oh, don't move... oh yes.... Hips jerking, eyes clenched tight.

I lost my grip, and nearly tumbled to the floor, but somehow, she caught me, easing us both down together as my legs gave out. She cuddled tightly against me as I quivered through the aftershocks. Vaguely I felt her skin against mine. 'When did she get undressed?' I wondered idly.

I lay there, bathing in the afterglow, the feel of her against me, arms around each other, her head tucked under my chin, her breath warm on my neck. My pulse slowed, gradually coming back to myself. Not sure how long, but eventually, I shifted slightly. "Come on, kitten, let's get dressed before someone finds us."

She picked her head up, looking around a little blearily. I chuckled, seeing the evidence of my orgasm on her face. I kissed her, tasting myself, and she clutched at me.

"Come on," I chided gently, swatting her butt. Just a light one.

I groaned my way upright, swaying slightly, then gave her a hand up. We helped each other dress, then staggered toward my office, managing to escape being seen. A stop in the ladies' for a quick washup. Chloë's face was a little... sticky. I stood behind her, and she stared at me in the mirror as I slowly wiped her down with a wet paper towel. Which only required one hand. I'm great at multi-tasking, and my free hand slid down across her smooth stomach, into her pants. Urging her onward and upward as I ground myself against her perfect ass.

I helped her totter back to my office, where she sat on the small sofa I had in the back, then slowly toppled over, drawing her knees up. She was feeling the after-effects of all the endorphins.

"Mel... Melllll.... Mellie... Mellow... I feel so mellow..." she babbled.

"Goofball," I replied, stroking her cheek. Chloë smiled, eyes closed, and she drifted off. When she awoke a bit later, my face was the first thing she saw. I had moved, and was now sitting on the floor, one forearm on the sofa, my chin resting on it. I was watching her sleep and gently stroking her hair.

Chloë blinked fuzzily. "I fell a'seep?" she mumbled in a childlike voice, and I gazed at her tenderly. Still petting her. "You sure did, mon petite chatte."

Chloë blushed at the endearment, smiling. That one little dimple showing. She sat up and stretched. Like... well, like a kitten. Then blushed some more as she caught me clearly admiring her young body, her unfettered breasts stretching the material of her T-shirt.

Watching her, a thought occurred to me. A concern, maybe? But, keeping it casual, I jokingly asked, "What would your parents think of this?"

Chloë looked down at herself, then patted at her hair with one hand, giggling. She affected her crazy Asian mom voice again. "Why you look like chicken that fell in the soup? Why you smell like steamed dumplings and shame, heya?"

And she had me laughing again. I moved to my chair and smiled at her fondly. Leaning forward, elbows on knees.

"Baby, can I ask... and I'm just curious, it doesn't matter, but... have you always?"

"Liked girls?"

I nodded, and she bobbed her head in return.

"I knew in high school, but I was too shy... too scared. I had a couple of girlfriends in college, but because I had to live at home, it was hard to find time. I could use the excuse that I needed to go study... but we had to be very discreet, and eventually, that's what broke up both of those relationships."

Her head was down again, and she was fiddling with the hem of her T-shirt. Then, looking up, she asked me the same question.

"Yep, pretty much the same for me... although I wasn't as shy." I told her about my high school years, and my 'Melisandre' phase. "I knew then, and within the theatre club, things were a lot less judgmental." I smiled at the memory of my first time. So tender, and awkward, and perfect. I occasionally wondered what Sonja was up to; we hadn't really kept in touch after heading off to college. But it was just idle curiosity.

"So, what now?" Chloë interrupted my thoughts, and the fear, the nervousness, the uncertainty was palpable in her voice.

I smiled wearily but brightly at my young protégé. "Well, I think that was a good day's work, all in all. Why don't you head home early?"

She nodded, head down, clearly disappointed. More than that, though. She looked... forlorn. And in that instant, I made a decision.

"One more thing." Scribbling on a piece of paper, I handed it to her and said, "This is my address. I expect you for... dessert."

Her whole demeanor changed, and a trembling smile of tentative hope bloomed.

"Oh, and Chloë?" I let my own answering grin of confirmation spread across my face. "Pack a bag."

J/J/J/J

No lie, this actually happened. The sock part, I mean. It was on the floor outside my office when I came in to work one morning, and by that afternoon, all the other stuff that I can't seem to finish was (figuratively) shoved aside, and this story was well on its way to completion.

/

"SCIF" stands for Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility. Generally, an enclosed, secure area within a building that is used to process classified information.

"Stand-up" is a short, daily meeting (usually held in the morning) where team members (often software developers) quickly update each other on project status.

"YDS" is the Yosemite Decimal System, used in North America for scoring traditional and sport climbing.

Glossary of French Terms:

Entrez, s'il vous plait - Come in, please

Ne jugez pas - Don't judge me

Coquine - Naughty girl

Ma petite polissonne douce - Polissonne = naughty; Douce = sweet. So, it's someone who is both.

C'est ma bonne fille - That's my good girl

Très coquine - Very naughty

Mon air débraillé - Literally, my air of dishevelment. An untidy appearance.

Mon petite chatte - My little kitten (fem.)