"Oh Hiii Cindi!" She sang-out.

"Oh hello, Ms. Henderson." I almost stuttered, turning. I had been brushing my hair, trying to tease it up, getting it nice and fluffy the way Steven liked.

"Going out, then?" She smiled so sweetly, turning towards me, the edge of her elegant straight blond locks swirling on her delicate jaw line.

I blushed, my face warm, and stuttered. Lauren Henderson was Steven's ex; I and had been dreading running into her somewhere in the building all week.

"Yes, right in the city; I can't take the subway home change, and come back."

I flushed again, not knowing why I put it like that. She and Steven had cars, and lived right in the city. My ears felt hot, blood rushing the lobes, the large heavy ear hoops Steven liked so much, burning as they brushed my cheeks.

"Oh don't worry about that, Cindi --you are looking wonderful!" She smiled again, almost helpfully, showing her perfect white teeth. The pearls on her neck, rested delicately on her collar bones.

I felt my tense body relax, a deep breath washing away the edginess. I was expecting a catty put down; Lauren Henderson, Senior VP Strategy, was famous for them all over the office. "Oh thank you Ms. Henderson." I stopped not knowing how to go on; God Steven had dumped her only two weeks before, after that big fight they had in his office, and here I was almost giggling with her in the rest-room, as I primped for my third date with him.

But she was adjusting my strapless blouse, smiling, as I stood there, almost tottering on the new heels I had just picked out at Nine-West, after Steven had said some thing about stilettos. She moved the edge of the clingy knit top, delicately over my full breasts, "and where is he taking yoou?" She dragged out the last syllable, eyes alive with pleasure.

Maybe it is all just water-cooler bitching, I thought to myself, I don't really know her. She could be just really nice; nice enough to make me feel alright about Steven. "Papillion." I said a little diffidently, an upward lilt in my voice. It was really expensive; I knew because we'd been there the day before. Steven had wanted to try another place that had just been reviewed, but I practically begged to back; the mango-vodka mousse, and foie gras had been so heavenly ‹ and knew that I could order them there again, with out asking embarrassing questions from the snotty waiter.

"Oh that's really nice!" She exclaimed, "Did you try the truffle-carrot soup?"

I shook my head.

"Its orgasmic," She laughed, light and tinkly, as if that was just between us girls who'd both watched Steven eat. "Just remember re-do that lovely crimson lip gloss afterwards." She smiled, lips parting, as if remembering a old kiss.

I touched my own tongue to my puffy lips, that I had coated and re-coated with lipstick minutes ago, almost unthinkingly. All I could do was giggle.

"Have fun Cindi!" She waved prettily, before she left.

We spent a lot of time together, after that. She would sweep through from the finance wing, where Steven was a Senior VP, and stop by my cubicle in marketing, on her way back to her own huge office, and be soo nice, always complimenting on my make up or hair some thing. Then one day she almost whispered, bending low ‹

"lets skip lunch and go shopping!"

Then she'd explain lots of stuff to me, about stores, prices, what was good quality and what was really cheap; and I wasn't tense any more, I looked forward to us grabbing salads, and then giggling for an hour, over a scarf, or a new eyeliner for me.

Soon after she would say, when I had tried on a pair of pants, or picked up a new really light lip gloss ‹ "No, he wouldn't like that, I don't think." And then she would look at me, almost curiously, half knowingly and ask, "would he?" God I would blush, flick back my teased hair that was always in my eyes, nervously, and simper. I guess she knew what he didn't like. The truth of it was that I didn't know. Yes, he some times told me what he liked, it was not like he talked a lot about what he didn't like. So I would always nod, and catch her eye, like, "of course, duh!" ‹ and put it back on the rack, and giggle.

And then she'd point to some thing else, and laugh softly, picking it up, saying, "Now that's what you should try on, Cindi! Its beauutiful!" And I would.

Except of course, all the really nice stuff was far too expensive for me ‹ and we always ended up at places that seemed cheap by comparison. She was so nice about the stuff at the big V-mart across the parking lot, where she never bought any thing at, of course, saying soothingly, "Oh now that really really suuits you, Cindi!"

I never really called her Lauren. I did once, kind of softly, almost like her first name was too good for me to say, and it got stuck in my throat. I don't think she heard me, but it felt uncomfortable, like I had really over stepped a line. After that, it was easy enough not to call her any thing, while we shopped or were together, and just call her Ms. Henderson, if it was something formal in office.

It was a Thursday, when she came and touched me on the shoulder, when I was bent over the printer, my skirt hiked up at the back, trying to get the stupid thing un-jammed. I jumped back, almost yelping.

She grinned. "High-strung, today, Cindi?"

"Oh I'm so sorry Ms. Henderson, I justÉ Yes." I nodded. Steven had been away since the Friday before, on a business trip to South Korea, and oh godÉ I was missing him. I'd started my period on Saturday; it had just finished on Tuesday.

Right after it stopped was always my hottest time; even before I was seeing Steven, I always had to remember to get panty liners, or I'd soak right through to my panties.

But now, after Steven, I just dripped all the time. I pressed my thighs together and blushed dark, seeing her watch my breasts heave. My stiff nipples were pressing through the thin bra cups, grazing my thin blouse. I could feel them.

"Yes I guess I'm a bit tense." I looked down, trying to hide my blush, but felt she saw right through me.

No one had made me hot like Steven did; and the worst of it was, I didn't even really know what it was. Of course, he was incredibly good looking, tall, broad, with really clear eyes, strong features, and wavy brown hair. He knew what he wanted; he just exuded authority. He'd just whistle, and his secretary, a really pretty girl my age called Jenny, would often be running about to get him what he needed, like his coffee or a file.

I just couldn't believe he asked me out!

Usually, we'd see each other after work, going out to really nice a restaurant in a city for drinks and dinner, where they had these wonderfully thick table cloths, and masses of heavy silverware I never knew what to do with. I'd revel in being with him, seeing him across the table, watching his lips move, and his jaw work. Sometimes, I'd be frozen, staring at his face when he'd just look at me and smile. Then, afterwards, he'd always take be back to his room at his private club, right in the city. When he said my club, I didn't understand at first, I thought it was, may be, a dance club, or like a strip club. But no this was really fancy, with leather arm chairs and fire places; but we didn't linger downstairs, we went right up to his rooms there, where he said he some times slept over.

My pussy clenched, as I remembered that room.

First I let my nervousness and insecurity take over, acting like the typical done-it-all, know-it-all bitch. But he had been kind and patient with me; after I finished blowing him the first time, and looked up at his face from between his hard muscled thighs, hair sweaty on my cheeks, his cum sticky on my puffy, glossed lips, he'd just put me to work again, slowly, telling me what he liked ‹ little licks on the half hard cock head first, then feathering his balls with kisses, sucking each one, and tonguing under, all the way to his ass crack, taking the cock again, sucking deep, this time, opening, lips pouted, keeping the cock deep in me, while I gagged softly, massaging his thickness with my throat.

When he'd been telling me what to do, like I was his secretary or something, I'd been almost offended, but then I had to remember he wasn't some nineteen year old boy I was blowing in the car after a date at a Red Lobster. He was Steven Binghamton. And he'd just actually been seeing Lauren HendersonÉ andÉ. oh god ÉI felt my cunt open and gush, like his hand was on me, and I was bucking on it, like some cheap little slut. He laughed softly, later, when he saw how I'd soaked the sheet between his knees while I had been blowing him. He patted my ass, as I tried to curl up close and said ‹ "go re-do your lipstick, and freshen up that mascara Cindi; I usually like a second suck and swallow quite quickly."

"Oh Cindi!" Ms. Henderson was looking with amusement at my face, as I remembered, almost squirming. "Oh I know! You deserve a treat; I have one planned." And we were off, ending up at Secret Silk.

I'd never even been inside Secret Silk, is was soo expensive, the tiny, obscenely hot lace thongs were more than a week of my pay. But Ms. Henderson really knew her way around, picking up a corset here, holding it up to my waist, then pointing to flimsy half bra and laughing softly. After she'd walked around with me, we just headed to one of their huge fitting and sitting rooms, with a sales girl who carried every thing we wanted. Unlike in V-Mart, here you could try on the panties; they had paper liners on the crotch. Ms. Henderson smirked as she turned to leave the fitting room, for me to change. "It is it a good thing those thongs are lined, aren't they, sweetie?" I went crimson. God the things she said. And that snotty little cunt of a sales girl, just stuck her fake tits out, and giggled saying "I'm sure, Ms. Henderson."