Unusually, today I was sitting next to Chris in the car as he was dropping me off to work. I say unusual as I normally drive myself to and from work, but tonight I’m going to the gym with one of the girls from work. She’s going to drop me off back home later.

So we were chatting the usual and listening to the insane rubbish blaring on the radio when he caught my attention. “You look a little agitated today. All ok?”

“Narrr I’m fine,” not really sure what he was talking about.

“Really?”

“Yer I think so,” really not sure if he’d picked up on something. I started to think if there was anything that could be on my mind. “What! Am I doing something wrong?”

He laughed, “Nope, not something wrong.” Then a slight pause begs and he said, “You just look, I dunno, fidgety,” before briefly looking over at me before his eyes darted back on the road.

“Oh, I dunno. I think I’m ok.” I looked myself up and down wondering what he’d picked up on.

“Yer there’s defo something.”

I sighed, he was probably right, nothing slipped through with him. He would have given any good detective a run for their money. He continued, “It’s not money is it?” Daft question as he took care of that, I always had what I needed.

“Nope.” I started thinking a bit more but he was on one.

“Clothes, wearing anything different?”

“Errrr well yer, but not really. New bra not worn before,” and I dismissed it instantly.

“Well that’s it ain’t it,” he joked with a laugh and quickly moved on. “Any work deadlines?”

“Nope.”

“Meeting anyone new today?”

“Nope.”

“What are your meetings today about?”

I had a quick think, then it hit me, “Ohhh, Mr Grace.”

“Yer,” he again quickly glanced over at me, “ ... and?”

“Well he’s the owner.”

“Ohhh I see. What’s worrying you about him?”

“I don’t know.” A little silence while I tried to work it out. Nothing that jumped out, “So he’s coming into the office a lot more at the mo as his son is really ill. I’ve only met him once. He’s a nice guy, older, polite.” I shrugged my shoulders.

“So it’s not him?”

“I dunno.’’ We were nearly at my workplace. “I don’t think so. He’s nice.”

“Ummm, he’s pervy?” As soon as he said that I felt my cheeks flush. Was this it? Was this what I was worried, thinking about. I remembered his gaze, I could feel it right now. On my chest.

“No,” but I wasn’t very convincing.

“That’s a yes,” and he chuckled.

“Well no, he’s just...” I didn’t know how to put it.

“Is he rude, old school like?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. The opposite, actually.”

“So he makes you feel violated.” Now Chris sounded concerned.

“No no no, I guess he’s just complementary. Maybe.” Yer, that was probably the best way to describe it.

“But pervy isn’t complementary.”

I sighed again, “It’s more than that.”

“Oh!” Was he that worried now?

“No no, I don’t know. I can’t explain it really. It’s like he gets embarrassed but wants to look or say something nice. Like he can’t help it to be a gentleman or something. However he doesn’t want to get sued.” That was a good way to describe it really.

“Ohhh so he likes ma lady does he?” and he laughed. Oh here we go, I bet he links this back to his stupid cuckold thing. He’s been going on about this for years and it’s ridiculous.

We pull into the car park and I lean in to give him a peck on the cheek. “See you later, love.”

However he grabs my arm. “If he’s a nice man then let him know you’re happy to talk or be flattered. There’s nothing wrong with that now is there?”

I don’t answer him but look into his eyes and see the mischief in him.

He pushes it home, “You may enjoy it.” His hand then lets go of my arm and swiftly grabs one of my boobs giving it a squeeze. Nothing out of the ordinary there. I smirk at him and pop out of the car.

I haven’t been able to concentrate all morning. I’m glad that the meeting with Mr Grace is at 11 am and not 4 pm. Two days ago in the car that morning Chris poked my mind and put something in it that I haven’t been able to move beyond. The day went as normal, the evening as normal. But Chris has been on to me since then about Mr Grace’s crush on me. It’s not a crush, that’s silly, but Chris can’t stop teasing me and it’s having an effect.

I keep thinking that I guess it would be nice to let the old man know he could compliment me. It would certainly ease the tension I was going to bring into the room. I wasn’t like a lot of these women that would instantly shout ‘harassment’, when a man pays you a compliment. I fully understand the difference between a man and a woman and how sexual attraction works.

A flattering look, a lustful stare, even a crude comment, though, would shock me a little. I’d receive them with open arms, so to speak. It’s nice to know that you’re still appreciated and have it a little. I know I have the curves that a lot of people like, but being in my mid 40s you do wonder.

10.55 am and I’m sitting outside one of the glass meeting rooms waiting to enter. He’s in there on his own, talking on his mobile phone to someone, his free arm very animated. I’m being careful not to stare or listen in, though listening in is pretty tricky due to the thick glass doors and wall.

He swiftly finishes his call and stands, opening the door he ushers me in. “Emily my lovely come in.”

I smile at him as we both sit down at the small round table, putting my closed laptop down in the middle of it. I know he’ll want to just talk before we look at the financial models that I’ve made. We plough through the small talk quickly.

He’s nervous again, I can see it. ‘Let him know it’s ok, make contact,’ I hear in my head in Chris’ voice.

God! I really don’t know how to do this or if I want to. His hands are on the table in front of me, mine are on my lap. I can’t believe I’m about to do this, I hope I don’t blow it. At the right moment in a conversation, both of my hands reach up and rest over the top of his. I smile at him.

“Chris, my husband says that I should let you know that... “ my turn to stammer and get nervous now, “I’m ok with flattery and flirting.” Ok there it is. I look at his face and his eyes slant a little, he looks concerned. I instantly feel, like I’ve fucked up. This isn’t me, this isn’t right and looking at his face, it’s all about to explode. Why did I let Chris talk me into this?

“Is this a trick or a joke being played on an old man?” He’s not smiling.

“No no no,” quickly trying to defuse the situation. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m not some stuck up, woke person.” I remove my hands from his as it feels like I need to give him room now. Geezzz! Why are these sorts of conversations so tricky? Why did I even bother?

“What do you mean your husband says?”

Oh God! He’s latched onto that. “Well he...” Now I can’t tell him what we chatted about over the last few nights, “he just said to let people know what I’m ok with.”

“So your husband wants you to...?” He left that hanging there. Was that a smirk on his face?

God! And the true answer would have been, ‘Well Chris wants me to bend over this table and let you fuck me, happy for anyone to watch or join in,’ but I went with, “He just wants me to be happy and relaxed.”

“Ummmm,” and you could see his brain working. “So I can compliment you and I won’t get sued?” He was grinning.

I nodded.

“Emily, you are a beautiful woman and your husband is very lucky.”

I blushed and smiled at him. And that was it, the air was clear. He grinned back, very happy. I was wondering if he was going to push his luck and try a bit more. He didn’t until the end of the meeting.

We wrapped up and just before I stood, he told me, “I’m so pleased with our new arrangement.” Interesting choice of words. “If I ever overstep the mark, please tell me clearly.”

I nodded at him.

“No I really mean it, you must tell me if I ever upset you or go too far,” slightly concerned about the ‘go too far’ bit.

“Of course Mr Grace, I promise I’ll tell you,” and I stood to leave the room.

As I did he literally eye fucked me. I mean he slowly took me in from toe to the top of my head, then back down again and he stopped at my boobs. I also stopped to let him. Then he looked up at my eyes and raised an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘Yes’.

I didn’t mind being eye’ed up, I mean I should, but it was nice and what’s the harm? It made me feel good, in fact really good. I smiled at him, a slight nod and I walked out feeling rather flushed.

Over the next few weeks, nothing really happened. I saw him a few times, he smiled at me and maybe admired me from afar. I was almost missing it, the real attention. What was wrong with me?

I did wonder if other women had the same attention that he gave me. I assume they must have. There were plenty of slim, young women in this business, he was bound to lust after and enjoy looking at them. Maybe he’d moved on already? That thought made me a little sad.

My next meeting with him was a group meeting. It started as normal, there were 6 people in the room. He didn’t pay me any particular attention. But just as the meeting ended he asked me to stay behind, I felt my heart flutter.

When we were alone, something in him changed. “Good afternoon Emily,” and he smiled at me. Then straight to the point, “Do we have the same agreement as before?”

Without any hesitation, “Oh of course Mr Grace.” I felt my stomach flutter.

“Stand up for me please, Emily.” Oh this is different.

I slowly stood for him, pushing my chair away. His eyes looking over my body, this time really taking his time. He also appears to linger at my breasts. I just stand there and allow him to take me in. It feels very strange, I feel very objectified and I don’t know if I like it. I’m certainly not used to it.

He stops looking at my entire body and now focuses between my face and my boobs. Neither of us say anything for a good few minutes. I feel like I should sit down, or say something but I do neither. I want him to tell me what to do, I’ve never felt like that before. I don’t know where this feeling has come from.

“You are a very beautiful woman, Emily. Very womanly.” He pants a little. I just stand there and let him continue, “You really have magnificent breasts.” It shocks me but I try not to show it. I’ve invited this sort of comment, and I’ve told him he can pass it. I’m not really surprised at that comment, his fixation on them has already been noticed. I’m gone my entire life with people being interested in my boobs. I kinda get it. I’m very used to it.

“They are,” he takes a deep breath, “extremely large.” I’m still just standing there, he looks at me funny. “Are you really ok with me talking to you like this?”

I slowly nod, unable to speak.

“Please speak to me. Your voice is angelic, my lovely.”

God, no one has ever called me angelic. “Yes, I’m ok, us talking like this.” That brings a huge smile to his face. I blush at verbally admitting it.

“I can see that you have a bra on, what size do you wear?”

Oh God! This is escalating quickly, is this what Chris meant by ‘go with it’? Was I really about to admit this to my boss? Why did he want to know my bra size? I nearly shook my head a no, but instead simply answered him, “I wear a 36J bra.” God I felt proud almost, announcing it.

“Magnificent”, he nodded, before opening up a bit, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have a bit of a breast fetish.” I smiled at him, it was kind of obvious. He continued, “You don’t mind that do you?”

“Of course not.” God almighty, I’d never have predicted we’d be talking about my boobs like this.

“You have the biggest breasts I’ve ever seen,” he let me know, then he quickly corrected himself, “well I haven’t seen them as such,” and he chuckled, “Please take a seat.”

I sat back down where he indicated, a different seat to before, now in front of him. I felt very awkward, unsure what to do or where to look. “I really should get back to work.”

He nodded, but didn’t dismiss me, simply staring at me and them some more. “I’d like us to work together on a new project.” He went on to explain about the new project in detail and how we’d need to work closely together, meeting a few times a day. It actually sounded rather interesting and would certainly be good for my career. And that was it. I was surprised at how quickly he moved back to business talk.

This time when I stood up to leave the room I thought I’d leave him a little something to remember me by. I stood side on to him and really thrust my boobs out making them stand out as much as possible. You could say I was teasing him. He appeared to appreciate the view, a huge grin filling his face. This made me feel good, I was making someone happy, he was enjoying the view.

I was about to leave when he raised his hand a second indicating he wanted me to wait. I paused and watched him get his mobile out. He then pointed it at me as if he was going to take a picture. Now this caught me off guard, I wasn’t keen on it, this was going over the line. It was sleazy. I pulled my bust back in and adopted a normal stance, frowning at him, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He lowered his phone. I was pleased that he’d listened but I was also sad that I’d ruined the moment. I felt bad. It was the right choice. However, I then heard Chris in my head and second guessed myself. From nowhere, I suddenly felt naughty, like I wanted to do it. I was confused. God this was a bad idea and for some reason this popped out of my mouth, “Chris would want me to though,” and I twisted slightly while thrusting my boobs out, putting my figure to the best vantage possible, my heart fluttering as I posed for my boss.

His phone popped back up and he pressed the screen a few times, I smiled and looked straight at it. He mouthed, ‘Thank you’, which made me wonder if he was videoing and not just taking a picture. This was enough though and I turned leaving the room. With a definite sway to my hips, I started to imagine what he was seeing, hoping he was enjoying it. A vision of me in a tight, shorter skirt popped into my head. I almost shivered at the thought.

Two days later Mr Grace and I met for our first project review. He was courteous, and a perfect gentleman throughout. There was no perving, no sexual undertones, no checking me out. I was a little sad. I even evaluated my outfit that evening when I was at home. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, pretty much my usual work outfit.

Then the next week the same thing happened. Nothing. I don’t know why but it really bothered me. What had I done wrong, why was he no longer lusting after me. I couldn’t help myself, I needed to know. Towards the end of a meeting where it was just the two of us I asked him, “Is everything ok, Mr Grace?”

He turned to look at me up from the screen, “Yes of course Emily, why do you ask?” not a hint of a smile on his face. Very serious. If he was playing a game he was very good at it.

“I just wondered,” not sure how to put it. I couldn’t just ask my boss why he wasn’t perving any more. “You know our agreement. I’m still ok with it.” Safe enough?

He nodded and looked back at the screen. I nearly cried right there and then. I don’t know why but I took it as complete rejection. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. “Have I done something wrong?”

He turned back to me and sighed, “No of course not.” Again no smile and no detail that I could work with or fix.

“Then what has changed?”

He was still facing me, “I don’t want to upset you or ... is it Chris? You are an intelligent, fantastic team member.” I warmed from his praise and smiled at him.

“You won’t upset me, and Chris well, he’s ok with it.”

He shook his head, “No I will not, can not take that risk.”

“Honestly, Chris is weird and fine with it.” I wasn’t actually sure what I meant by ‘it’ in these circumstances.

“No I cannot,” and he turned back to his screen.

I don’t know why but I need this old man’s approval. He had started something in me, I wanted him to appreciate me, my body. “Chris can write you a letter?” A letter! a letter! what on earth was I thinking?

“No, you could just do that and pretend. I won’t come between you.”

“He could call you?” I realised that I started to sound desperate, and I wasn’t sure why.

He turned and looked at me. Still no emotion showing, he asked me, “You could Facetime him now?”

Oh that caught me off guard, errr, what time was it, where would he be right now, did he want to have this call? What on earth would they talk about? Yet I found myself nodding, “Yes, we could.”

He nodded back and I saw a smile. Before I knew it or had time to think myself out of it, I Facetime called Chris.

“Hey, calling me in the middle of the work day. Don’t get caught,” he laughed as his face came into view.

“Hardy Har Har, well this is going to slow you down smart arse. Mr Grace is here with me right now,” and I turned the phone to show him. I imagined an awkward smile.

I was about to turn the phone back to me when Mr Grace reached out and assertively took it from me. Then lowering it slightly, “Emily would you get a coffee please, while I have a quick chat with your husband?”

Ok this wasn’t what I’d expected at all. What could I do but nod and go to do as requested?

I almost ran to and from the kitchen, I needed to know what was going on in there. What were those two conspiring about? Probably nothing, it was all just a wind up. I was back and entered the glass room again, picking up on Mr Grace, “Months, I expect,” and he looked up at me smiling. “Thank you Chris, your lovely wife has returned. Let me hand you back to her. Lovely to chat and do please text me as you promised.”

I was quickly looking at Chris on my phone with a quizzical expression on my face. “See you later, love. Have fun,” and he hung up. The stupid git wasn’t even going to give me a hint. Which I guess was ok seeing the company that I had.

I sat back down next to my boss Mr Grace and waited for him to update me. He just sipped his coffee and looked at me.

“Well?” he said patronisingly, I felt like a little child.

He looked at me, weighing me up. “You were right, he understands. That is good news,” and he smiled. “He is likely to encourage this, don’t you think?”

I nodded with an, “Umm.”

“Can you do something for me?”

Oh God, probably not, “I’ll try.”

“Tomorrow can you wear something, er, more befitting for a beautiful young woman please?”

“I ... I... “ I didn’t 100% know what he meant. This is the sort of thing I always wore to work. Black trousers, either a blouse or jumper. Today it was a nice jumper, I thought I looked smart. Now I guess he means something more slutty. “What do you mean? Let’s be 100% clear please,” I managed to respond in my assertive voice.

“Well Chris and I both agree that a woman as sensual as yourself should be in a skirt, blouse and appropriate underwear. Sophisticated and sexy, not slutty,” he smirked as he knew he had me there.

I’d bite, “Appropriate underwear?” though I probably shouldn’t have bothered.

“Obviously, stockings, suspenders, bra and thong, all matching,” and he grinned.

“Obviously,” I smirked back at him. Was I really discussing my underwear with my boss? “And I presume the skirt should be just below my butt cheeks showing everything off?”

“Au contraire my dear”, I said in a sophisticated tone,” he raised an eyebrow at me.

“Ummm.” I also spotted that he’d added Chris into the mix of deciding what I should be doing. “What did you and Chris discuss?”

“Oh you don’t need to worry about that, unless you want to flash me your breasts right now?”

Err what. “Pardon,” I nearly choked at him.

“Maybe not yet eh?” and he chuckled to himself.

And we left it at that, meeting over.

That evening, Chris and I chatted around the conversation he’d had with my boss. He wouldn’t let on what was said or discussed, instead calling it a private agreement between them. I was pissed. Here they were with some secret agenda that I expected had me in the middle of it but I was on the outside as to what it was.

Chris laughed at the thought that I’d been requested to wear stockings and a skirt to work. He’d been saying that for years but I’d never acquiesced to that. In fact I didn’t even own a decent set like that so I couldn’t anyway.

Throughout the evening I noticed that Chris was busier than usual with his mobile. He’d get up and wander off, come back texting. Then off he went again, somewhere else in the house and more texting. It was like he had a new buddy, and that was my boss.

The next morning I woke up with a twist in my stomach. I’d just never worn a skirt to work and yet I was seriously considering it. I know it’s just a skirt and that plenty of women wear them all the time, but to me this was different. I probably wore a skirt or dress maybe twice a year and never to work. No real reason, I guess it’s just the modern way and it was what I was used to.

I still wanted Mr Grace’s approval for some ungodly reason. I guess a therapist would have a field day inside my head right now. I know a skirt doesn’t mean anything, it’s just an item of clothing.

Chris had left early, something in work needed him. Not unusual, but I’d barely seen him as he flew out the door early.

So here I was standing in front of the mirror ready to head into work. I certainly thought I looked different, well different to usual. I had a white blouse on, one that I didn’t usually wear as it was a rather expensive designer brand. It was a rare blouse that had some clever stitching that tapered at the waist nicely. It was kinda made for my shape but I didn’t really like it as my boobs looked really big and it was a little see-through. Buttons all done up nicely, none were holding on for dear life, showing no cleavage but an expanse of upper chest where my necklace sat.

Yes I had a skirt on, it was a soft stretchy cotton thing, that was again a good fit. It came down to my knees and though it wasn’t particularly tight there would have been a panty line on my ass had I not been wearing a thong. Again not part of my usual attire for work. The thong was accompanied by a matching bra, not my sexiest or newest, but not some drab discoloured thing.

He’s said stockings but that just felt a bit too far. I’ve probably only worn stockings twice in my life and both times were for Chris for the bedroom. I didn’t really have any and I had no idea if I had suspenders or even needed something like that. I was very out of touch with the hosiery world. So I was bare legged, that wasn’t a concern, it was the norm for others on a warm day like today.

It was a bit warm out but I’d opted for a jacket to go with the outfit and topped it off with a very small purse and black 2” heels.

Everything was freshly trimmed or shaven, just because, since I was putting the effort in. Well I had. I actually felt quite cosmopolitan and a little sexy, it was a splendid feeling. I was certainly feeling more vulnerable, being a little more exposed but that was exciting.

So imagine my disappointment to find my 10 am meeting with Mr Grace pushed back to 2 pm. Apparently he wasn’t coming in to work this morning, something had come up. To compensate I’d soaked up the comments from my other colleagues, though, and there had been plenty. Nothing sexual or remotely inappropriate, just people more happy to see me and noticing a difference. It was a nice feeling to have, peculiar but nice.

Eventually, 2pm came and I headed to the booked room. I was there first, a few minutes early, took one of the 3 seats and loaded the project plan on the tablet. I saw him walking towards the office through the closed glass door, he looked up, noticed me but didn’t acknowledge me, and stopped a few feet from the door. He pulled his phone from his pocket and started typing things.

He just stood there for nearly 10 minutes doing stuff on this phone. The meeting was now going to start late, I wasn’t sure if I should leave or wait. I started to check my email and noticed two new project meetings that had just been booked in for tomorrow both for 1 hour, one at 9 am and one at 4 pm. Both with Mr Grace, both booked by him just then. So he was standing outside making me wait whilst booking meetings for tomorrow? Some kind of power play?

I heard the door go and he entered the room with a, “Good afternoon Emily.”

I nodded and smiled at him as he sat right next to me and turned to face the screen. He did something on his mobile and the glass windows and door frosted over to cut off any view from or to the outside. What. When did? How did? I was really flustered now. I almost saw a grin on the side of his face.

I couldn’t help but fidget in my seat. Pulling my skirt lower down at my knees, pressing them tightly together. I was concerned about being in this room with him. I no longer felt safe, I could feel my heart racing. Though I didn’t really know why.

After he’d pondered the spreadsheet on the screen he turned to me. “We’ll cover that tomorrow Emily. How are you today?”

Trying to retain my composure, “I’m great thank you Mr Gace,” our eyes locked for a few moments.

Without showing any emotion he instructed me, “Stand up Emily, I want to look at you.” He really emphasised the word look. I didn’t move. He didn’t move. No reaction at all from him. My heart started beating faster.

Something about today was very different. Yes he’d asked me to stand for him previously. Yes he’d taken it all in and looked me over. Yes we had this ‘agreement’, but something about today was different. Maybe it was his tone, his change in attitude? Maybe it was the skirt I was wearing? Maybe it was the frosted glass. Maybe it was the fact that I was in this private room with him that no one could see into and on the other side in a large open office space were 20 plus people. And they knew that in here was the owner and an accounts lady.

They knew that he was an older man, he had power and he had me. Maybe that was what was worrying me, what were they all thinking? I could hear it, ‘That Emily with her short skirt and engorged tits trying to entice Mr Grace.’ ‘I’m surprised we can’t hear the creaking of the table or chair.’ Oh gawd, this was soo embarrassing.

And then I realised that we’d both not moved in a few minutes. His last request still ringing in my ears. Why couldn’t I say something, why hadn’t I stood up, why was I finding this so hard? How long would we sit like this, who would give first?

It turned out that it was me.

It was as if it wasn’t me, someone else’s hips moved me, sliding my legs to the side. Someone else’s legs then helped me stand up. Someone else even moved the chair that I had just been sitting on back under the table. Someone else then made me take a small step back so that he could really see me. In seconds I had, against my own will, stood as instructed. I was presenting my body to him for him to ‘look’ at me. I would have been burned at the stake by any self-respecting woman. And yet here I was.

His gaze had travelled over me as I was still looking at his face. Our eyes locked, his still expressionless. “Remove your jacket.”

Now this was even more robotic than before. I don’t even remember taking it off, but it was instantly on the back of the chair next to me. That confused me, and yet somehow excited me. What was going on, how was this happening.

Still maintaining eye contact he started, “Emily you are a beautiful woman. Your high cheekbones, lovely small nose, deep eyes the same colour as your always pristine hair. Your skin is perfect.’’ Still no expression on his face but he raised his mobile and I guess he took a picture of my face. “Perfectly symmetrical. Utter perfection. Your lips are plump and beautiful, but pale. They look dry, lick them for me Emily.” He commanded.

Again the robotic me did exactly as instructed. I don’t think I did it seductively, more to moisten them as a utility. However I heard from behind his phone, “Ummm yes,” almost a pant, he clearly liked that.

“You should try some hooped earrings Emily, they would look nice on you. And some dark red lipstick yes,” and another pant, “Ummm,” as he lowered his phone. “You are a very beautiful woman Emily,” and he nodded at me. Still no smile or real emotion on his face.

I then watched his eyes slowly and deliberately drop to my chest. “That is a lovely fitted shirt, it really emphasises the size of your breasts. Turn sideways for me.”

I did.

“Yes you can really see the shape and weight of them in your bra. I can see the pattern of it against the shirt and the straps that are holding them up. Yes, they are working hard.” I was looking ahead now whilst standing at 90 degrees to him. But I heard or rather felt his phone being raised. “Yes I am going to capture your amazing figure like this,” and I stood there and let him. “Pull your shoulders back and really thrust your chest out Emily.”