Finding Out
Sandy's arrangement with her boss seems right.
“Hello, Sandy. Staff all at lunch?” “Yes, Mr Sutton,” she said, admiring his shirt-sleeved figure behind his desk. ”Lock the door,” he instructed. “Love your nipples pushing against that blouse.” Some opening gambit, but Sandy responded. “Anticipation.” And lobbed her handbag onto a sofa. He gestured deskside, “Stand here and remove the blouse.” Sandy did both willingly, as Sutton went on, “You’re happy with the terms we...