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Tight Security



He glanced up from his newspaper as she came in, and then briefly at the
monitor screens before
returning to his paper. Thus he missed the brief smile she gave him. He was
vaguely aware of the rustle
of plastic as she emptied his waste bin into her black sack, before leaving
him in peace. It was after all,
just routine.

A few minutes later she was back, trailing her vacuum cleaner behind her
like some exotic pet. Again he
looked up at her as she plugged it in and switched it on. This time he did
see her smile, a little apologetic
at disturbing him, and he smiled weakly back before returning to his paper
and resuming the article that
ran alongside the picture of the leggy blonde.

The insistent noise of the vacuum cleaner irritated and distracted him. He
kept looking up to see if she
had nearly finished. Well, that would have been his story if anyone had
challenged him. In fact he found
himself watching her as she bent and stretched pushing the nozzle of her
machine into obscure and
inaccessible nooks and crannies. She noticed his glazed lascivious looks,
and smiled at him artlessly but
seeing that he had caught her eye, he simply resumed reading his newspaper
with an embarrassed cough.

"You here all night, luv?" she asked absently as she unplugged the machine
and started looping the
cable.

"Yep," he didn’t look up from his paper.

"Can’t be much fun. When do you knock off?"

"Seven." He still didn’t look up.

"Must get a bit lonely," she said thoughtfully. She had collected all her
bits and was ready to go.

He said nothing, just shrugged.

"Listen, I’m parched. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee before I go. D’you
want one?"

He looked up at last. She had long curly chestnut hair tied at the back. As
she stood before him, he had
to admit that she looked attractive. In her cleaners overall and with no
make-up, though, she was
certainly no film-star. For him such people only existed in pictures next
to articles he pretended to read
in cheap newspapers, and although she had the advantage that she was real
and standing there in front of
him, he preferred the safety of the printed image.
A brief break in the story to make an authors note:
S to r y c o p y right belongs to N i c k at c a s s a n d r a dot d e m on
dot c o dot u k as should be
stated at the top. Sorry for the interruption. Please carry on reading.

"OK."

She smiled and disappeared into the corridor outside before returning with
the coffees.

"Ta, very much," he said.

She sat down on his visitors chair sipping her coffee while he continued
reading the paper, wondering
vaguely how long it would take her to drink her coffee and go.

"You like this job, then?" she asked breaking the silence.

"S’Okay, I s’pose."

"What’s the pay like?"

"S’Okay."

More silence. He glanced up at the monitor panel, then carried on reading.

Of course he knew nothing about her. He didn’t know why she was there
drinking coffee with him and
indeed the question never even occurred to him. He wasn’t to know that home
for her was just a lonely
bed-sit and that after she finished that night all she had to look forward
to was a bus-ride home and yet
another night watching the television until she felt tired enough to go to
bed.

She simply made him feel slightly awkward. He didn’t see the hungry
desperation in her face because he
was too absorbed in his newspaper, and even if he had looked at her, he
would probably not have
registered anything. He had no idea just what was going through her mind as
her longing eyes ignored
his pot-belly and armpit stains and saw only his sex. As far as he was
concerned, she couldn’t possibly
be attracted to him. Only Julia Roberts or Demi Moore had ever expressed
any desire for him, and then
only when his eyes were shut. They had taste and saw him for the real man
he was. The ordinary woman
was not so perceptive. How could she be?

More silence.

By chance, as much as anything else, he looked up at her as he turned the
page. She sat facing him and
was now staring absently at his monitor, her hand resting on her thigh.
>From where he was, he could see
a little white triangle between her legs.

Her eyes met his, and this time she did not smile. He nearly missed it and
would have moved on to the
sports section oblivious, but the movement was there and unmistakable. As
he glanced down, he saw
that her legs parting slightly, and her hand moving unambiguously upwards.
His eyes widened reflexively
and he looked questioningly at her face again. The lack of expression gave
him no answers, but as she
slowly raised her left foot to the seat, giving him a full view of her sex,
barely trapped beneath lace
panties, his newspaper slipped to the floor.

He fumbled with his belt, with his fly, and she took a deep breath as his
fleshy member sprang from its
confines. She slipped her hand inside the top of her overall and under her
bra, to pinch at her hardening
nipple, biting her lip. Her heart skipped a beat in anticipation as he
arose from his chair and advanced
towards her, his prick swinging towards her face.

She leaned forward, and pulled him towards her to take his swelling head
into her mouth where she
flicked it with her tongue. He groaned, pulling himself clear suddenly. She
flinched slightly and gasped
as she felt his hot fluid spatter across her cheek. Withdrawing her hand
from her breast, she collected his
semen with her fingers and, with a eyes closed, proceeded to rub it into
her breast.

She cried out loud, thrusting her hips forward as she slid her other hand
inside her panties. She was all
but oblivious of him as he re-zipped his fly and walked uncertainly back to
his chair. Her fingers
desperately manipulated her engorged clitoris and spread her delicate moist
folds for him, but he simply
retrieved his newspaper. Her hips bucked convulsively with her approaching
orgasm as he started to
read with disappointment how the Arsenal had lost to Wimbledon.

When she had finished herself off, she sat there for a moment, her soaked
panties now a source of
discomfort and embarrassment. As the warm sensations of passion wore off,
she began to feel dirty and
humiliated. Slowly she marshalled her thoughts and feelings, to direct them
at what now became the
object of her loathing. She looked at him venomously, seeing now the
pot-belly and armpit stains, as he
concentrated ferociously on why his favourite team had lost so dismally.

Bastard!

"Well," and she cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice even, “I’ll be
going now, then.”

There seemed to be no more for her to say or do. He could only bring
himself to nod.

She rose from the damp visitors chair and left his office walking slowly
down the empty corridors to the
building’s entrance to sign out and leave. She seemed unaware of the
whirring of the motors on the
monitor cameras which followed her. Her bowed figure moved from screen to
screen on his monitor
station as he watched her go. Something stirred within him, but he wasn’t
sure what it was and as she
faded from view there was less and less he could do about it anyway.

He returned to his newspaper.

End of Story