Dave sat at his terminal. It was another standard day in the office, programming a software tool for a faceless end user he'd never meet. Oh the joy.

His office was a dull place. Grey in color, populated by geeky males who were all buried in their respective tasks. His daily highlight was walking by reception and seeing the brightly dressed girl who sat there, smiling falsely to everyone as they passed, her milky-white cleavage on display for the world.

That is, until one Monday, when Natasha arrived.

Natasha was the new project manager for Dave's team, her duty would be to report daily activities to her superiors. She was nothing like the rest of the office staff.

On her first day, she entered wearing a tight fitting lime-green knee length skirt and matching jacket, under which she wore a feminine white blouse, crowned with a short pearl necklace. To say that she turned a few heads would be an understatement.

As she walked through the office, her five inch black heels clicked and clacked on the tiled floor, that in itself made people turn their heads to see the inevitably confident and sexy woman wearing them.

Click, clack, click, clack. As heads turned they would catch sight of her shapely legs in black stockings that led up her green skirt, which clung tightly around her toned behind. The men's cubicles would be unusually busy that morning.

Natasha was 35. She had been around the block and was nobody's fool. An intelligent woman; she wanted to get on with her job and despised aspects of the male-oriented industry in which she was frequently treated as a kitten; often hit on by fumbling middle-aged men who assumed she would lie down and roll over, at the slightest whiff of a high-earner.

She had an IQ of 164. She kept that to herself most times, as the men around her could become ... difficult, if they found out. Not that she found this an issue, it just kept things simpler.

However, despite all this, she was a woman and reserved the right to portray herself as such. She would not yield to the inferior complexes of her male co-workers and dress in an 'appropriate' manner. She had a figure; she liked it to be visible. If men (and women, for that matter) got hot under the collar at the sight of her then that was their problem, she thought.

Dave was, unsurprisingly, one of those people. As Natasha walked by, he was mesmerized by her powerful femininity. The path from the office entrance to her glass-fronted office led by his desk. Time slowed down for Dave as she walked past, the office-lights shined off of her black shoes, and her shapely thighs stretched through the fabric of her skirt as each leg moved in front of her.

Dave held his breath as Natasha's eyes turn to him briefly. She was a beautiful woman, not a gaunt, child-like model, as was often seen in the media day after day but a real, voluptuous picture of feminine perfection. She had silky-soft brown hair that fell just upon her shoulders and a soft, white complexion, complementing a pair of striking blue/green eyes.

She passed Dave and continued on to her office, her desk oriented such that he could see her seated from the side. She went in, closed the door and sat down to begin her day's work.

Dave turned back to his monitor, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Oh my god", he thought to himself, "she's wearing black stockings and high heels", he fantasized. He didn't know this for sure - they might have been tights - but he only wanted to picture it this way.

That night, at his home, Dave masturbated furiously with the visions of Natasha in his head.

The next day, work began as always and Dave came in, quite relaxed from his masturbatory activities of the night before. He sat down at his desk, powered up his machine and began to check his emails, when he sensed a presence behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he turned to see Natasha, hands on hips, standing before him.

"Hi", she said, "I'm Natasha Miles. Can you pop into my office for a minute?" She asked in a professional tone.

He coughed, clearing his throat, his mind instantly turning to the illicit thoughts of her from last night. Here she was, right in front of him, her perfumed aura filling his lungs as he breathed in and her rich, luscious voice melting the remainder of his senses.

"Ahem. Okay. Yes. That's fine." He said, blurting out the words in the clumsiest manner possible.

Natasha turned and walked back to her office, with Dave in tow. She sat down on the front of her desk and crossed her legs, her skirt riding up her thighs slightly. Dave entered and closed the door then, as gestured to by Natasha, sat in the sole chair in front of her.

"You're Dave Wilmsman, right?" She asked.

"Yes, that's correct" he said.

"I just wanted to take some time to introduce myself to the team on an individual basis", she continued. "I'd like to go over some basic rules and find out a bit more about you and what it is you do here etc. It's something that I always ..."

Dave's mind wandered as she continued. He couldn't concentrate. Here he was, seated in front of one of the most gorgeous women he'd ever laid eyes on, as if he were watching a prelude to a porno scene. Dave had noticed that, at the underside of her crossed thighs, he could just about glimpse the smooth, white texture of her skin, beyond the tops of her stockings. He felt his cock grow stiff. "Women in stockings don't exist in real life", he thought to himself. "They are items of fantasy in the stories I read and the porn I download - yet this woman is really wearing them."

"Dave - are you listening to me?" She said, sounding justifiably annoyed.

"Sorry, Mrs Miles", he replied, "I am a little tired."

Natasha knew this was bullshit. She had seen where his gaze lay and shook her head briefly at him, as if he were a child. Dave blushed, obviously knowing he'd been caught looking and dropped his head in shame.

"Thanks Dave", she said, "That'll be all. I'll see you in the weekly meeting. And it's MISS Miles, if you don't mind"

She raised her hand as if to gesture to Dave he should leave and he did so promptly.

"What a dirty little prick" she thought. "I bet he's going to be tossing himself off whilst thinking of me tonight", she mused ironically.

Some weeks passed and Dave's face became just one of many to her in the office. One day, he happened to glance over to her office window, as he usually did to get his morning fix, and noticed her bending over her desk to pick up a pen she'd just dropped.

Her black skirt moved up her thighs, revealing the thick black band at the top of her stockinged leg.

One strap of her white suspender belt was just visible, and led teasingly upward. Dave's eyes were locked open. No amount of porn he could download was remotely as exiting as this.

Natasha stayed in this pose for what seemed like a minute, yet was probably only a few seconds. Finally, she bent further, over-stretching to get the pen she had dropped and her skirt rode higher, the fabric now tight around her arse, revealing the line of the suspender strap underneath which curved over her firm buttocks. One leg raised behind her for balance, whilst the other went firmly straight to the floor.

If Dave had been positioned slightly further round he might have been able to see in between her stockinged thighs, to her creamy-white silk panties. This was not the case; Dave's eyes traced a line up her leg from the floor; from the bottom of her black-heeled shoe, up her poised leg and to the blatantly visible stocking top. His cock bulged instantly in his trousers and he shifted in his seat.

Then she stood back up, her hair sweeping back with a flick of her head.

Dave turned quickly back to his monitor, in an attempt to hide his voyeuristic activity. There was no sound of Natasha's heels approaching behind him. He hadn't been seen. The rest of that day in the office was as long as any Dave could remember. He was desperate to get back home and jerk the hell out of his 6" cock.

Finally the day ended. The office had emptied out and Dave was one of the last there, engrossed in his efforts to extract any profile photos of Natasha he could from the intranet or web. He had surprisingly discovered several of them, one of which was his clear favorite: Natasha in a blue business suit. Her heels and stocking-clad legs were crossed as she sat in a chair, smiling courteously, with her glossy red lips parted ever so slightly.

Looking around, Dave saw the office was now empty. He undocked his laptop and walked over to the stationary stock room. He went in, shut the door and turned the light on. There was no time to waste. This had to be done quickly as the cleaners would be around in an hour or so.

With his back to the door, he put his laptop down, opened it up and zoomed in on the picture of Natasha.

"Holy fucking guacamole - she's stunning", he thought to himself, undoing his belt, and pulling down his underpants. He began to masturbate whilst staring intently at the image of Natasha before him. Pre-cum dripped from his stiff cock; the workings of his hand gradually covering its length with the slimy fluid.

He closed his eyes, the vision of her now firmly etched in his mind and worked his way to climax.

Suddenly, the door opened. Natasha walked in, looking for a new pen.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She said in a disgusted tone. Dave had no answer. He sat there, dumbfounded, his hard penis dribbling clear liquid slowly to the floor. Then she noticed the laptop, with her picture on display.

"Oh my God", she uttered. "You fucking unbelievable wretch." Her hands went to her hips, and she shook her head in disbelief.

Dave tried to say something but he found no words. He scrabbled to pull up his trousers but as he did so, Natasha spoke again.

"Hey where do you think you're going eh?" she said sternly, "You haven't finished yet. I think you should bloody well finish in front me, you pervert." she said, angry as hell.

Dave tried to ignore her and proceeded to do up his belt but if he'd have known any more about this woman and what she liked to get up to in her personal life, he wouldn't have done this. He would have done as he was told immediately.

"I fucking mean it you prick! Drop your trousers and finish what you started. If you don't, your job is history and I'll be sure to let EVERONE here know about this" she threatened.

Dave gulped and stopped. He lowered his trousers again to reveal his cock, now harder than ever, and stood half naked in front of Natasha.

"Do it. Do it now, unless you want me to invite the cleaners in too!" She warned him.

Dave put his hand on his cock and began to stroke it. Natasha stared on mercilessly. Dave looked at the floor as he slowly worked himself back to climax. His breathing began to quicken and his legs shook. It didn't take him long before he showed the obvious signs of impending orgasm. Natasha moved forward, the clicking of her heel cutting through the silence.

She lifted her arm and it was then Dave noticed she was carrying a plastic water cup. She held the cup up to Dave and said immediately, "Don't you dare spill any on the floor."

He took the cup, and placed it at the front of his cock, just in time to catch the flood of cum that pulsed forth from its slit. Dave let slip a muffled groan in front of his boss. His knees buckled and his head went light, then he managed to compose himself just enough to raise his arm, in an effort to return the cup to Natasha.

"Really?" She said. "You really think I'm going to take that nasty cup of goop from you? How dare you!"

Dave dropped his arm and was about to put the cup down when Natasha demanded of him: "Drink it, you miserable piece of shit."

Dave understood now why he had been asked to finish. She wanted quick retribution; the alternative was painful humiliation in front of his peers. He sighed and lifted the cup to his mouth, looking at the nasty man-glue inside.

"Mrs Miles", he said, woefully. "Please. I'm really sorry. This won't happen again. Can I just go now?"

"That's Miss Miles, Dave. And no, you can't" She replied.

Dave looked back to the cup, closed his eyes and put it to his lips. In a swift motion, he tried to knock it back, like a shot, but it didn't go that way. The sperm slid slowly into his mouth and sat there, forcing him to sense and taste it on is tongue, before he reluctantly swallowed it. His face screwed up and his cheeks puffed out as he thought he might puke but he didn't.

"Good" Natasha said. "Serves you goddamn right." She turned and starting walking out of the stock room. Dave felt a tear well in his eye. At least, he thought, it was over and done with now. 

As Natasha's sexy form left the stock room, she said finally, with her back to him, "I'll see you back in here tomorrow, at this time, for some more of the same. And don't even think about not being here or you'll be performing for a crowd next time."