1. 12. Abbi at the office


    Date: 8/2/2015, Categories: Office Sex, Author: GoBigCatGo, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories

    “You lucky, lucky bastard…” Paul stared incredulously. Next-door’s receptionist, Abbi (love heart over the “i”), coquettishly swung her hips as she walked by my desk. She had given me a wave as she dumped the mis-delivered post. “Why is it I’ve been in the office for fucking years and she’s never even noticed me? “ The astonishingly rabbit-like Paul continued, “Well, except that time she caught me looking up her skirt.” “I think you’ve answered your own question there.” Fucking offices. This was the only office I’ve ever worked in, thank god. An internship during a study-break. The most depressing places on earth, give me a building site on a rainy winter’s Tuesday anytime. And this is what people are reduced to? “He did this, She said that”, brilliant people mutated into terrified, washed-out, grey-eyed rabbits. Offices are without doubt, for me, the un-sexiest places on the planet. Except for this one time… Our office didn’t look as bad as it could have -- belonging to an interior design practice it was all white and uplit -- but the office is in the people, not vice-versa. In terms of the “politics” it might as well have been as dour, ceiling-gridded, plastic-wooded, as the one next door. Being a junior I was often tricked into working weekends, I didn’t mind because the shitty-little-rabbit-men weren’t in then and I could whack the stereo up and do some work on my portfolio at the same time. One weekend, the office next door was being re-decorated (I will spare you my ...
    opinions on this) and I noticed Abbi was in, overseeing the work. Abbi was a surprising person to find in an office, she looked – honestly, and by her own admission – like a dirty model. Not quite a porn star, but the unlikely “girl next door” you might get in men’s mag. Women hated her, not just because she was very pretty – waist length hair, big eyes, curly mouth, slim waist and full figured – but because she tarted herself up in that bizarre porno way, bleached blonde, false eyelashes, loads of make-up. She just didn’t need any of it, but I figured it was her choice, and at least she was an individual. A bunny amongst rabbits. Abbi wore the maddest, most immodest, skimpiest clothes. The minute there was a hint of sun she was all bare-legged and flip-flopped in short summer dresses. She said it was because her bosses were too tight to pay for air-conditioning. So they did, and she was made to dress more appropriately, much to the relief of many wives. Or maybe not, I wonder how many sex-lives were predicated on what Abbi wore that day. But this weekend she was in her “civvies”, a little flowery dress and flip-flops, and it was clearly driving the decorators crazy, as they leered and pulled their collars at each other. It was after lunch when she came into our office, pointing at me. “Fluffer, innit?” She shouted over my music and I cursed those gossiping cottontails. “Um, BC. Actually.” I turned down the stereo and she smirked at me, her eyes doing the briefest flick at my ...
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