"I'm sorry this is taking so long," she shrugged, mumbling around the pencil in her mouth. She held a manila folder in each hand, a third spread out on her desk.

"What?" He realized he was checking his watch again. He glanced at the window. The twilight had darkened visibly: A street light winked on. "Oh. S'okay." He grumbled, trying to be gracious. "Don't worry about it. I understand." He sat in her waiting area, not far from her desk. He picked up the trade magazine from the table-again-glanced at its cover for the fourth time, then tossed it back.

"But you're bored." One folder joined the other on her desk: The other went back into the filing cabinet.

"...No, really, I'm..." As she bent to reach the lower drawer, her skirt hiked up. Hm. "I'm good." He idly wondered if she had intentionally coordinated the color of her panties with her office dress.

Her head turned. She grinned as she saw where his gaze rested. "Might have known." She wiggled her ass pleasantly.

He glanced around. "Hon...?"

"Don't worry. We're alone." She stood up. "Housekeeping has already come and gone, and everybody else has left." Her fingers pounced on a document attempting to escape from her desk to the floor.

"Darn it."

She glanced up with a puzzled expression. "How do you mean?"

"Well... there's a lot of potential in being alone in the office, if you didn't have all that work to do. If there were people around it wouldn't be a temptation."

She smiled again. "Oh. That."

"Never far from my mind, sweetheart."

"How well I know." Her fingers played at the collar of her white dress blouse. She undid a button revealing more of her neckline than the office usually saw. "Well, we can mix business with some pleasure, here."

He gazed appreciatively as her chemise peeked through her buttons. Blue again. She did color-coordinate. "Uh, yeah."

She reached the last button. "I can't get too distracted, because I really do have to get this work done." She gracefully slipped the blouse off and draped it over the work chair, the points of her nipples visible through the blue silk of her chemise. "But at least we can have something more interesting to look at than trade magazines."

"Works for me," he agreed, enjoying the view in these unaccustomed surroundings.

"We'll see if it does." Her hands rested on her hips, but she made no move to take anything else off. "I said 'we', dearie."

"What do you have in mind?"

"You want to see more?" She posed and wiggled seductively.

"You know I do."

"You're going to have to earn it."

"Sure thing." He stood up and reached for a manila folder. "Where does this go?"

"Never mind that. The files are in order, and they won't be if I let you at them, Mr S-for-Psychology."

"Then, what?"

"It's your turn."

"What?"

"Oh, come on, it's not that hard. We're taking turns. I just took off my blouse. If you want me to take something else off, you're going to have to take something off."

"But..." Much as he was appreciating her nipples, he came to a new realization that this was her office. You don't just take your clothes off in an office.

She watched him consider. "C'mon. It beats sitting around listening to the water cooler." As if in answer, a bubble in the cooler's water tank blurped.

He stood, thinking. Finally, he slipped off his shoes.

"That's it?" She slipped her shoes off, then the staring contest resumed. "Well," she commented, "as I said, I really do have to get this stuff finished." She returned to her desk and resumed filing.

He thought about every reason he could imagine not to do this. This is her office, she knows its routines, she's comfortable here. I come by maybe once a month, for a few minutes, to pick her up. He glanced at the area's main door, mostly glass like all the offices in this building. He could see the elevator lobby beyond. Someone could come through that door any minute.

She sounded pretty certain, though.

What the hell.

He moved to where she could see him, then began taking his shirt off. He could feel his own nipples hardening as his fingers moved from button to button.

He placed the shirt on a chair and waited. After a minute, he cleared his throat.

She looked up. Smiling, but wordlessly, she put down her pen, reached down to her waist, and in one lithe movement peeled off her chemise, revealing her upright, inviting breasts. The chemise joined her blouse.

The cooler blurped again.

He knew how it felt. His penis was making a tent. If it wasn't obvious now, it would be when he took his pants off. He surprised himself momentarily that he was considering taking them off. He surprised himself again when he realized that he wasn't considering it: he had already decided.

In a moment he stood in boxers and socks, thinking how silly he must have looked. The boxers didn't begin to hide his erection. And every woman he'd ever known had told him You never leave the socks for last: Ideally, you should start with the socks. A man wearing only socks is a man at his most ludicrous. So, without waiting for "his turn", he stripped them off and stood naked.

He stood naked in the reception area of her office.

This was a lot more arousing than he thought it would be. He thought about the women who would have been occupying the area during business hours. He thought about being a client so important that he could walk in naked and nobody would have the nerve to object.

She looked up from her paperwork... and an eyebrow raised. She smiled. "Just like a man. No teasing, no suspense, no seduction. Get naked and get it over with."

"That's not fair. This was your idea."

"Mm. So it was." She gazed appreciatively.

"Yeah," he agreed. "So?"

"So what?"

"So...Are we still taking turns?"

"...Oh." He had escalated this game a little further than she had intended. She was thinking he'd be content to see her rack: She hadn't planned to get completely naked. This is her job. And it's not like she had an office with real walls and a door, nor even a cubicle. Her desk was in a relatively public area.

But there he was. And here she was. Fair is fair. She couldn't argue with that. It was the fair thing to do.

And part of her, much to her surprise, really wanted to do this.

As she slid out of her chair, her fingers moved to the zipper on her skirt, slowly, not out of any intent to tantalize, but simply because she wasn't sure how far she was prepared to go. Her eyes returned to his penis...and she made her decision. Within moments the skirt had fallen to the floor, leaving her in panties and hose. The hose she rolled carefully: The panties she saved until last, shyly turning away from him to remove them.

Soon they joined the rest of her clothes, a neatly-folded bundle of blue and white office dress next to his rumpled pile of street casuals.

They regarded each other's bare flesh in the incongruous environment. The cool air of the a/c stiffened two sets of nipples to tingling. His throbbing penis rose and fell slightly with his heartbeat. Her sex began to moisten.

"Hm," he grunted.

"Mmmm," she replied.

"Now what?"

She took a slow half-step towards him, her desires writ plainly on her face. Then she stopped. Her eyes returned sadly to her desk. "I really need to get this done..."

His hopes faded. His erection didn't. "Of course. Are you going to continue working naked?"

The faintest of blushes colored her face and chest. "Yes."

"Then I'm good."

Her color deepened. She reluctantly returned to her desk, and her paperwork; He half-sat on the desk opposite and watched her breasts sway gently as she wrote. Several times her hand automatically reached for the pen in her blouse pocket and tweaked her own nipple instead, eliciting a quiet gasp. His penis wavered as he shifted position, pointing more-or-less directly at her. More than once she caught herself staring at it instead of the documents she was supposed to be reading, her eyes following its head hypnotically as it wavered back and forth, like a charmed snake. This may not have been the best idea I ever had, she chastised herself.

Eventually he noticed how much difficulty she was having concentrating on her work. He colored slightly when he noticed what she was staring at. Well, that's flattering, he thought.

What the hell. "Tell you what," she suggested. "There's no reason you can't have fun just because I'm still working."

"I am having fun," he replied, and meant it. She flushed again. He noticed, for the first time, that she could blush down to her nipples.

She heard herself say, "Touch yourself."

So badly did he want to do just that, that his hands had actually begun to move before he stopped and reacted. "What?"

Her hand unconsciously moved to her own breast. "Touch yourself," she repeated. She stroked her own nipple and shuddered slightly.

"Masturbate?"

"Well, yeah."

"Here? Now?"

"Well, you needn't actually, er, finish. Just something to amuse yourself. And me. Just to keep from getting bored. See how long you can make it last. Although..." The cooler blurped again. They both laughed. "Oh, come on. We've talked about it. Now's a perfect time. I'm busy, you're horny..."

"I am now. I wasn't before."

"You weren't?"

"Well... Not like I am now."

"Ah."

"Aren't you?"

Her hand fell to her lap-and encountered dampness. "Oh, you betcha."

"Well?"

She blushed again. "I told you, I have work to do." Like I'll be paying it any attention with you doing that right in front of me. "Time enough for me later. Please." Her color deepened. "I...I really want you to."

He began to move, self-consciously, his right hand drifting hesitantly to his chest. As his fingertips grazed his nipple, he gasped, and as he flexed his penis jerked upward. She was surprised: She had expected him to head straight for his penis. His left hand moved to the other nipple. His fingers circled the acutely sensitive tips, his body arched, and his eyes closed.

He didn't see her watching with fascination, or her hands mirroring his, unbidden. Work forgotten, nipples throbbing, her sex already wet, she groped her own breasts, caressing, squeezing.

She stopped herself and went back to her paperwork, or pretended to, trying to ignore the exhibition that commanded her attention. That she had asked for. What was I thinking? She read the same letter four times. Oh, God. Her nipples ached for attention. Her clitoris throbbed. This was a bad idea, she thought to herself, or else a very, very good one, as she lay down her pen and her hands moved to pinch her tingling nipples.

Her right hand moved to her desperate clit, thumb on the very center, first two fingers inside on her g-spot. She described a small circle with her wrist, stimulating both points at once, squeezing slightly, as her other hand stole back to her sensitive breasts.

His right hand had moved to his penis by now, holding gently but not moving, as he struggled to control himself, to arouse, yet not too far...

The cooler blurped again.

At the sound their eyes opened and met. They both blushed. They both smiled. Neither stopped what they were doing. Neither wished to. Eye contact was electric, binding them together. She on the chair, he on the desk, each masturbating, linked.

Finally, he said, "As long as you're taking a break..."

But she could no longer reply coherently. "I... I... I..." Both of her hands moved in ever-faster circles, one on her breast, the other in her moist cunt, helplessly close to orgasm. The intensity of her arousal took her by surprise, took control: She couldn't speak, she couldn't stop, she couldn't even look away or close her eyes. And she didn't want to. She wanted to share this with him.

She came as he watched, eyes locked.

As she returned to herself, she rose and walked a little unsteadily around the desk. She kneeled, removed his hand from his extended member and replaced it with her mouth, sucking hungrily, his shaft disappearing almost entirely, one hand returning to her overworked yet unsated clit.

Less than thirty seconds later, the sound of two more orgasms echoed through the empty office.

The cooler blurped again. Nobody heard it.