Interesting. Very interesting.

I watch her ass sway from side to side until she’s out of sight. It would probably be poor form to follow her down the hall. Even so, I’m still tempted.

What did I even come to my office for in the first place? It wasn’t to stare at the cracking tits on the new cleaner. I’m not often lost for words, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to her other than ‘you missed a bit,’ and that didn’t go as planned.

She couldn’t have been dressed much plainer. A knee length black skirt and a tight sweater shouldn’t get my blood boiling when there are plenty of attractive women in the other room with their tits practically hanging out of their dresses.

I don’t do plain. Some men find it a bit garish when women show off their assets, but I’ve always been a fan of the obvious type. It’s not exactly original, but give me a skinny woman with nice firm tits and a plunging neckline any day of the week. I don’t even mind them throwing themselves at me. It’s never got boring.

Until now. Now I want the cleaner. The woman with the curvy ass and large bouncy breasts hidden under a sweater and sensible bra. She’s probably wearing granny panties. Most of the women I fuck don’t bother wearing panties at all; at least, not when they’re around me.

Maybe I’m just tired. I close the door and sit down at my desk. My eyes scan the files, looking for work to do. Anything to give me an excuse not to go back to the party. Nothing. We’ve completed the takeover and that means celebrating with a party. I wish I’d never started that tradition. In theory, it’s a good way to keep staff motivated. In reality, the female staff treat it as an excuse to throw themselves at me. It gets tiresome after a while. I love fucking beautiful women, but I try not to mix business with pleasure.

I open the bottom drawer and grab the bottle of emergency scotch. I pour a glass and close my eyes, losing myself in thoughts of what’s under the cleaner’s sweater. The scotch is like liquid gold compared to the shitty wine at the party. We allocated a few thousand dollars for alcohol, but Heather went for quantity over quality. We’ll still be drinking that cheap crap at the Christmas party in 2018. I’ll have to take charge of the drink order next time.

I should have taken charge with the cleaner. She looked obedient. What could I have gotten away with?

Bend over the desk.

Pull up your skirt.

Slide a finger in your wet pussy.

Let me taste it.

How long has it been since I got laid? Weeks. Maybe even a month. There’s a whole room full of young women I could fuck. Some of them would follow me in here if I so much as made eye contact. A few others might pretend to be a little more professional and insist on sharing a few lines of conversation first.

Shame I don’t fuck the staff. I’m a lawyer, not an idiot. Fucking the staff is a shortcut to a law suit and I deal with enough of them for my job.

The cleaner isn’t technically a member of staff. We pay a cleaning company who then send over cleaners. Come to think of it, I’ve no idea why John went to the effort of interviewing her. That seems like an unnecessary extra step. Never mind, he made a fucking good choice. I can’t get in trouble for screwing the cleaning lady, can I?

I’m snapped out of my trance when my office door opens and a drunk young blonde woman stumbles inside.

“Can I help you?” I ask sternly.

“Oh sorry,” she replies, looking anything but sorry. “I thought this was the bathroom.”

Bullshit. She’s been making eyes at me ever since she showed up. I think she’s a friend of my secretary. I might be busy these days, but I’d remember if she worked here. She’s tall, blonde, and has breasts begging to be set free from her low-cut dress. Any other day, she’d be just my type. Not tonight.

“As you can no doubt see,” I reply, placing my now empty glass of whiskey down on the desk. “This is not the bathroom.”

It’s still early, but she’s drunk enough that she won’t even pretend to be embarrassed.

“My name’s Kim,” she says, walking towards my desk with her arm outstretched and fingers pointing down as if I’m supposed to kiss her fucking hand.

“I didn’t ask,” I reply. “You should go back to the party.”

“It’s full of boring lawyers,” Kim protests in a sickly sweet and immature tone of voice. She might just be putting it on. I can’t tell, and don’t particularly care.

“I’m a boring lawyer.”

“You don’t look boring to me.”

I pour another glass of scotch and don’t offer her one. “I can assure you, I am. I’m also very busy.”

“Getting drunk by yourself is no fun.”

I lean down to put the bottle of scotch back in the drawer before she goes getting any ideas. This shit is way too good—and expensive—to be knocked back by someone who looks like she’s barely of legal drinking age. When I look back up, she’s standing over me, the parting in her dress running all the way up her thigh and revealing enough skin that I can tell she’s not wearing any panties.

Call me a typical guy, but I do love a woman who’s not wearing any panties under a dress. Kim’s obvious and kind of irritating, but she is attractive. I could use a good fuck, and yet I’m more interested in the safe granny panties under the knee-length skirt of the new cleaner.

Crap, now I’m sporting a semi. She’s going to think that’s about her if she notices, and let’s be honest, it’s hard to miss a semi when you’re as blessed as I am in the size department.

“You should get back to the party,” I say, looking her in the eyes to hopefully distract her from my pants. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” And will not in any way acknowledge you for the rest of the evening.

“John didn’t tell me you played hard to get,” Kim says, now putting on a slightly deeper and more seductive voice.

“John?” He’s not helping my reputation around the office by telling all the women that I like to fuck around. No wonder they all get their hopes up.

Kim quickly drops to her knees in front of me and rubs her hands up my thighs.

“He said you might appreciate a little rest and relaxation.”

“I was resting and relaxing when you came barging in here. Go back to the party.”

“I’d much rather hang out with you.” Kim slides her hands right up my thighs and starts undoing my belt.

Okay, time to stop messing around. I place my glass of whiskey back down on the table and grab Kim’s wrists. “You’ve had too much to drink. Either go back to the party or…”

The door to my office swings open once again. It’s like a fucking revolving door at the Hilton Hotel tonight.

I look around and see the hot cleaner step into the room. She jumps a little when she sees me, our eyes meeting briefly, until she then notices my half-open belt and the woman on her knees in front of me.

“Sorry,” she mutters. “I… I dropped my phone.” She bends down to pick up her phone from the floor by my desk and slips it into a pocket on her skirt. “Must have fallen out. Sorry.”

She quickly scuttles back out of the office and closes the door behind her.

“Where were we?” Kim says. She tries to shake her hands free of my grasp, but that goes about as well as you’d expect. “I don’t need hands,” she continues, ducking her head down to my crotch.

I quickly lift her to her feet. “Out. Now.”

My anger must be clear this time, because her face turns sour and she storms out of the office as if I were the one who hit on her, not the other way around.

I’ll probably regret that later tonight when I’m in bed unable to sleep because of a rock-hard erection throbbing between my legs.

Still, it’s always better to play the long game. I can have blonde bimbos any night of the week. I’ve got my eye on something a lot more appetizing.