Power Play: Kelsey and the Executive (3 page)

There was a
silence, and then the door behind her opened.

“Oh, wow, uh…” Steve
from personnel walked in, staring at her, his gaze moving over her outfit.

 “Sorry, wrong
door,” Kelsey apologized, breezing past him and scrambling around the corner toward
her desk. Oliver’s door was closed, thankfully. Still trembling, she sank into
her chair, staring at her computer screen. No new interoffice messages.

She remembered
the message she had sent to him and called it back up, wondering if there was a
way to unsend it now.

* * * *

She knew
Oliver was going to “spank” her—whatever that meant—but she couldn’t help
herself. She wore them again, those sexy striped tights that had turned him on
so much—her mystery interoffice messenger—after she washed them out in the sink
and left them to dry over the shower curtain rod. Although this time she was at
least wearing a presentable skirt and jacket to go with them.

First thing,
before Oliver arrived, she decided to go see Mike in the tech department. His office
was tucked behind all the huge machines that kept their system going. She had
no idea what they all did but they sure looked impressive, standing ceiling
high, with their blinking lights.

“Mike?” she
called over the hum.

He poked his
head around the corner. “Hey... I called you, did you get my message?”

She nodded
as he came around the corner to greet her. “Yeah, thanks, the ID seems to be
working just fine. I sent a memo out yesterday, everyone seemed to get it.”
To
say the least,
she thought. “So, I’ve got another question for you. Do you
have a list of everyone’s IDs?”

“Sure.” Mike
leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.

“Okay.” She
took a deep breath. “Well, I got a strange message yesterday from an ID I
didn’t recognize. Can you tell me who it is?”

“Sure,” he
agreed again. “What is it?”

“DUX217.” She
couldn’t help recalling the image of Matt looking at her stockings the day
before. Of course, everyone had looked at her stockings. Including her own
boss! And she’d been daring—or stupid—enough to wear them again. What was she
thinking?

Mike nodded.
“Just a sec.” He disappeared around the corner again, into his office. She
waited, watching the lights blinking on the machines.

“Hmm, that’s
weird...”

She looked
up to see him coming back around the corner with a paper in his hand.

“I’ve got a
list of everyone’s IDs, and that’s not on it. It doesn’t sound familiar to me,
either. Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she
said. “I’m sure.”

“Well...” He
shrugged. “I’ll look into it. Do a little more digging. Can you forward me the
message?”

Kelsey
flushed.

“No...”
Thinking quickly, she lied. “I erased it.”

“Okay, well,
if you get another one, shoot it over to me so I can trace it.”

Kelsey
imagined Mike reading yesterday’s message and it made her blush even more.

“Okay,” she
said, knowing she could never forward him such a message. He was looking at her
funny and she knew from the heat in her face that it must be red. “Thanks
anyway.”

“No
problem.”

She
hesitated on her way out the door. “Hey, is there a shortcut way to send a
message to all-employees on the system?”

“Yep.” He
motioned her around the corner, over to the computer in his office, pulling up
the interoffice message system. “Control-F9. See?” He typed “test” in the text
field and hit send. That box came up: “
Message Sent to All Employees
.”

“Crap.”
Kelsey felt sick to her stomach. She’d sent that memo out to everyone somehow. Probably
going too fast. Typing ninety words per minute sometimes had its drawbacks.

“Gonna have
to run a little class on this thing once we get all the bugs worked out,” Mike
mused. “Wish Mr. Pierce would let me use a system that wasn’t DOS-based. So
goddamned old fashioned. I could set up something in Linux that was far
superior.”

It was all
Greek to her. She just knew she’d made a mistake. All she could do now was hope
it was just a little one. And that Oliver didn’t find out.

“Thanks
again, Mike,” she said and he gave her a little wave as she went out.

Back at her
desk, Kelsey got to work typing up some correspondence for Oliver. She hadn’t
seen him all day because he was so busy with Lockheed, but there was still a
ton to do. She did her best to concentrate on work and ignore the interoffice
message system, so it was almost noon before she logged into her message
account and found that DUX217 had messaged her:

Go the
men’s room after everyone goes home today and leave your panties in the trash. But
first I want you to go into one of the stalls and touch yourself while you’re
wearing them. It’s your turn to come for me, Kelsey.

Kelsey’s
heart raced and she glanced around her desk, as if someone might see her or the
words on the screen. The thought of doing what the message suggested was both
exciting and terrifying. What if someone caught her? A dull throb had begun
between her legs, a faint pulse.

Who was
DUX217? It
had
to be Matt. She remembered the way he looked at her, how
he had winked and called her “doll.” He’d flirted with her before, but she’d
always assumed it was just his usual, casual way of interacting. He did that
with all the girls in the office. Maybe the stockings were magic? She smiled at
the silliness of her thought, but she was glad she’d worn them again, even if
Oliver got angry.

Was Matt
sending these messages to her because he really thought she was sexy? Did he
really think she was going to do what he asked?

You did
yesterday
, a voice reminded her. She flushed, remembering masturbating in
front of the mirror, listening to him come. She had touched herself four times
last night, remembering it, waking again and again with the memory rushing
through her.

She’d only
seen Matt once today, when she passed the copier, and he had winked and smiled
at her when she said “Hello,” but no more. He hadn’t even acknowledged the
stockings!

But he’d
sent this message…

She sat at
her desk and pulled up the interoffice message program. She hit “reply” to
DUX217, typing:

“
If you
want me to do what you asked, then tell me who you are.”
She quickly hit
the “send” button, and a blinking window popped up: “Message Sent.”

“Kelsey.”
Oliver was standing beside her desk and she guiltily exited the message, trying
to ignore the heat between her thighs. It was the first time she’d seen him all
day. “My office.”

He went in,
expecting her to follow, and she did—remembering her stripes only when she shut
the door behind her and saw Oliver’s glance and then double-take, his eyebrows
knitting, lips pursed into a thin line.

“I have a
very important Lockheed meeting at two today,” he announced, sitting in his chair,
his head cocked as he looked her up and down. “You do realize that I’m running
a business here, don’t you?”

“Y—yes.” She
fidgeted, still standing at the door, looking and feeling confused.

“Kelsey, do
you have short-term memory issues?” He leaned back in his chair, loosening his
tie.

“N—no.” She
could see where this was going, of course, but was helpless to stop it.

He crooked
his finger, motioning her forward. “Then you do remember what I said about your
wardrobe yesterday?”

She nodded,
walking slowly toward him, feeling like she was in a dream. This wasn’t
happening. Couldn’t be happening. Of course she remembered what he’d said. But
surely one violation of the office dress-code didn’t warrant anything more than
a warning.
Another warning.
Certainly not anything so dire as getting
fired. Or worse.

A
spanking?

“Did you
read the dress code when I hired you?” Oliver inquired as she stepped around to
his side of the desk as he indicated. He turned his chair toward her as she
approached, her trembling knees almost touching his. She just nodded her
response, looking down at him. “I must not have been specific enough, is that
it?”

“I—I don’t…”
Kelsey’s breath caught when his hand cupped her knee in her striped stockings.
His fingers caught the fabric of her tights and pulled, letting them snap back
into place.

“Striped
stockings are not allowed,” he reminded her. “Black, navy or nude only.”

“Oh.” Of
course she knew—but maybe if she played dumb? His hand was still on her knee.
No, her thigh. Oh that felt nice. His hands were big, covering a lot of area.

“Do you know
why?” His hand was definitely on her thigh. Nowhere near her knee anymore. She
shook her head, making a little noise in her throat that she hoped might pass
as an answer. “Distractions, Kelsey.”

Oh it was
distracting indeed. Very distracting.

“There’s a
natural polarity between the masculine and feminine, no matter their
circumstances. Did you know that?”

She
swallowed, nodding.

“Men and
women—we’re like magnets, drawn together. It’s inevitable really.” His hand was
on her inner thigh, slowly kneading her flesh. Kelsey could barely keep her
breathing under control, trying not to show how excited she was, hoping he
didn’t notice her knees quivering.

“It’s hard
enough for men and women to work together, side by side every day, without
distractions like these.” His hand moved lower, lightly stroking the back of
her knee. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”
She understood now, without a doubt, even if she hadn’t before.

He looked up
and met her eyes, his expression unreadable. “Take them off.”

“Sir?” she
breathed. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be.

“Take them
off.” He leaned back in his chair, looking annoyed that he had to repeat
himself, crossing his feet at the ankles, his arms over his chest.

Kelsey
blinked, a part of her screaming that she should run straight to human
resources and report this, but her hands moved to her hemline, trying to
negotiate a way of taking her striped stockings off without having to pull her
skirt up, and she couldn’t think of one.

If the
thought of being spanked over his desk had been humiliating, this was far worse.
Now she had to face him, watch the corner of his mouth twitch, almost a smile,
as she realized she couldn’t do this without hefting her skirt up to hook her
thumbs into the elastic tops of her tights.

Maybe
he’s making you take them off so he can spank you?

The thought
was horrifying. And exciting beyond words.

“Turn
around,” Oliver instructed as Kelsey got the elastic down to mid-hip level.

She didn’t
question him. She was glad he couldn’t see how red her face was as she slid the
tops of the tights over her behind, realizing too late that her panties were
caught, rolling down along with her stockings, giving him a full view. She
didn’t want to think about that, grabbing the top edge of her bikini panties
and pulling them back up, pushing the tights down her long, slim thighs. She
had to bend over to get them down her knees, her calves, stepping out of her
pumps to slide them off her feet.

“Good.”
Oliver’s voice was low, husky. He cleared his throat as she slipped her bare
feet back into her shoes, picking up the tights, which were decidedly moist in
the crotch, from the floor. “Put them on my desk.”

Kelsey
balled them in her fist, turning to drop them in the middle of his desk, the
damp mass of black and white completely out of place on blotter.

 “Now you
can’t wear them again, can you?” He raised an eyebrow at her, reaching over and
picking up her tights.

“No, sir.”
Her face was flushed, damp, but she felt cold without her tights, and she saw
him looking at her naked knees below her hemline as he contemplated the striped
stockings in his hands.

“Good girl.”
He watched her shift from foot to foot. Kelsey felt completely exposed in front
of him. “We have a clear understanding of expectations?”

 “Yes, sir,”
she lied. She wasn’t sure of anything—not anymore. Having your boss ask you to
take your stockings off in his office was a complete game-changer. Who knew?

“Excellent.”
He reached behind him, dropping the stockings into the wastebasket. “Then I
don’t have to spank you.”

Oh.
She
was suddenly so lightheaded, she thought she might faint. Oliver turned his
chair back to his desk, picking up a file—the Lockheed file—and focusing back
on work. She was dismissed. Kelsey wobbled toward the door, feeling naked
without her tights.

“I won’t be
so lenient next time, Kelsey.” His voice was soft but clear as she started out
the door.

“Yes, sir.”

The rest of
the day, she was swamped with work, one thing after another, and she was glad.
It gave her the time and distance she needed. She was away from her desk when
Oliver left for the Lockheed meeting so she didn’t see him then, and he hadn’t
returned back to his office by the time she sat back down at her computer at
four, after spending the afternoon re-organizing the filing cabinets. 

She had been
so distracted by the events of the afternoon she hadn’t even thought about
DUX217 again until she was back at her desk. Then, she couldn’t help pulling up
the message program, looking for a response. Nothing.

She frowned,
typing another quick message to DUX217:
“Please tell me who you are. Please.
I need to know.”

Her press of
the “enter” key was rewarded with a blinking “Message Sent” window.

She typed up
yesterday afternoon’s dictation, much slower than her usual 90 words-per-
minute pace, because she kept checking every few minutes for a response.