I wanted to scream at her. Actually, killing her would be too nice a way to end the torture. Day after day she continued to drive me nuts and there wasn't anything that I could do about it. I couldn't take the problem to management because all that would do is make me the laughing stock of the office. The problem? Working in a cubicle next to a woman who couldn't be made to understand that cubicles are not sound proof and that I could hear every word she said - every fucking word! Why was that so bad? Because she had phone sex with her husband two or three times a day.

It has been going on for almost a month. For three months the cubicle next to mine had been empty and then one day I saw Jerry, our maintenance man, moving a desk into it. I asked him what was up and he told me that the company had hired a new engineer, "And I hear that she is one hot mama."

That was borne out the next day when a drop-dead gorgeous redhead started carrying boxes into the cubicle. I introduced myself and offered to help her move her stuff in. It took me two trips to her car before I noticed the wedding rings on her left hand. Just my luck; I was going to be sitting next to a stone fox all day, every day and she was spoken for. Her name was Belinda and she had just graduated from M.I.T and was excited about starting her new job. Enjoy the excitement while you can honey, I thought, they will grind you down soon enough. The bosses at our office might not be as bad as the 'pointy-haired' boss in the Dilbert cartoon, but most of them are pretty damned close.

The first week she was there went so-so. The food in the cafeteria sucks so I asked Belinda to lunch a couple of times and we exchanged vitals - me, single and not looking and she - married and no kids. Our hobbies were somewhat similar skin diving in the summer and skiing in the winter. Other miscellaneous stuff - I hated TV with a passion and only used it for watching football. She on the other hand was a slave to The King of Queens, Friends, Dharma and Gregg and two soap operas that she taped while she was at work.

I suppose that the only reason that I asked her to lunch was that she was so damned easy to look at. It was during the start of the second week that every thing started to go bad.

It was a Tuesday morning and I heard the phone ring in Belinda's cube. She answered it and the conversation went something like this:

"Oh hi. Glad you called. I missed kissing you goodbye this morning. Oh yeah baby, I would have kissed that too. Where are you? Can anyone see you? Take it out for me baby. Got it out? Stroke it for me baby. Slide your hand back and forth and think of my pussy lips, wet and puffy and waiting for you to slide it in me. Think of how hot I am sitting here and thinking about what that beautiful piece of meat could be doing to me right now. Oh you bet lover. The crotch of my panties is soaking wet. What? Don't be silly baby, you know what my favorite number is where you are concerned. Yeah, you got it baby, sixty-nine. Hey, got to go. Keep stroking it baby, I want it ready for me when I get home. Love you to, bye."

The first time I thought it was kinky and I envied the guy she was married to, but by Wednesday I had a totally different take on it. She had conversations with him at lunch and again at three on Tuesday and on Wednesday it was at nine-fifteen, eleven-thirty and two forty-five. If she was homely or barely good looking I probably could have tolerated it, if only for the humor involved. But Belinda was not ugly, homely, plain looking or in any other way a dog. To listen to her talk about sucking cock, eating pussy, making love and yes, even taking it in the ass while I sat there visualizing her doing those things was killing me. Thursday was more of the same, but it was Friday that destroyed me and ruined my entire weekend. Her phone rang at nine-fifteen:

Hello? Oh hi baby. Thinking of me? Ooh, how naughty. Don't be silly. No. I just wish it was Christmas. Because there is mistletoe. Because I could run around kissing guys under it. Do you think they would notice the taste of your cum? I know baby, I can be so wicked at times. You must have shot a quart in my mouth this morning. It's too bad I don't have a boyfriend on the side here at work so I could kiss him and let him taste you. No silly, I wouldn't tell him. Would you like that? Would it turn you on to know that I was kissing a guy after you had cum in my mouth? I'll do it baby. I'll do some flirting here - some heavy necking- and let some guy slip his tongue into my cum soaked mouth. You bet. Just tell me when baby and I'll do it. Love you too baby, see you tonight."

I had sweat on my upper lip and it was all I could do to keep from running over to her cubicle and shouting, "Me, pick me!"

My weekend sucked! No matter where I went, no matter what I did I had a head full of images of Belinda catching me under the mistletoe. What really made it bad was that Christmas was only two weeks away and every fucking store I went to was decorated for the holidays and that kept the thought of Belinda alive in my mind.

Monday started off bad. By eight-thirty she was on the phone telling him how horny she still was, "I know you did me twice this morning baby, but it wasn't enough. Me too baby. I wish there were a motel or hotel close so we could meet for lunch. Yeah baby, I know. I won't get any work done today thinking about it. Okay lover, keep it hard for me. Love you, bye."

There was more of the same at eleven and three-thirty and I ended up going to the men's room and beating my meat. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were more of the same. I wasn't getting my work done, I was missing deadlines and I was a wreck when I went home. Friday was the absolute worst, but I can't complain too much about it because I did most of it to myself. The phone rang at eleven-twenty and Belinda answered it:

"Hello? Oh hi lover. Yes. Yes. Of course I'm thinking of you. You bet. Got the Polaroid's in my desk drawer. (a giggle) I'm looking at the one where you have your beautiful cock buried in my ass. What? Oh God no, I loved it. It did hurt to start with, but it felt real good at the end. (giggle giggle) I made a pun didn't I? Of course you can. Yes. As soon as I get home. Just have the KY ready baby."

Five minutes later she asked me if I wanted to go to lunch with her, but I begged off - I told her I had some errands to run.

As soon as she was gone I hurried into her cube and looked for the photos. I found them in an envelope in the bottom right drawer and as I looked at them my cock almost ripped through my pants. There were eight all together, one each of her with a cock in her mouth, ass and pussy; two of her fucking herself with a dildo, and three naked poses for the camera. I made a quick trip to the copy machine and made myself two copies of each picture - one for the office and one for home - and then I returned the originals to where I had found them. At three-forty as I listened to her tell her husband what she planned on doing to him over the weekend I looked at the photos and wished that cubicles had doors so I could beat myself off. I took the photos home with me and over the weekend I wore my poor cock out.