Flirting has Consequences

She was sure he could feel her heart pounding and sense her inexperience. She closed her eyes, and the possibility of being caught by someone—anyone—dissipated as she focused on the pleasure he was giving her.”

Slightly startled, Carissa turns when she hears my voice. She didn’t expect to hear my voice at the gas pump behind her. If she is staring, she certainly don’t remember. Tall broad shoulders, with short gray hair and dark eyes crinkling to bit of mirth around the corners. Mid fifties she thought, perhaps a bit older. A sophasticted man, but it’s the mischievous look that always captures her attention. Eyes like those beg for a tease. my eyes slowly traversed the length of her body, stopping briefly in a way of assessing and taking stock. I lifted MY head and nodded ever so slightly, flashing a grin as if to say I liked what I saw. Slightly embarrassed but highly intrigued by the way I grazed her body so carefully, she found herself thinking that one good turn deserved another. I had returned to my car to fill my tank. I was facing her, one hand holding the pump, the other on my hip. She is still smiling as she spotted the washer fluid half way between us. She sauntered over and carefully placed her feet far enough apart to comfortably bend at the waist while she grabbed the handle of the wiper. Her spaghetti strapped low cut top, now gaping at the front, showed just enough of her smallish breasts and the distinct line between tanned and creamy white flesh. Still bent over, she hesitated, and raised her head to meet my eyes before lifting the wiper from the watery bin and grabbing a clean blue cloth from the holder. She wanted me to know this is solely for my pleasure. As our eyes locked, she realized I fully appreciated the game. She flashed a grin my way as she stood up and returned to her car.

I took a picture of her and sent it to my assistant with a message, I recieved a message back the information requested. Carissa; age 22, never married, no current steady boyfriend, is in marketing divison and attending the conference today. Carissa has been looking forward to this conference for the past six months–ever since she had been promoted to assistant manager of my company’s marketing division. She is looking forward to meeting some of her new colleagues in other companies, honing her leadership skills, and making contacts that might prove valuable in the future. At the first conference session, Carissa had the good fortune to be seated next to a older man, probably thirty years older. He was well over six feet tall, with a square jaw, gray hair and dark eyes. My name tag indicated I held an important management position in one of her industry’s leading companies, and Carissa knew immediately that I was someone she should get to know. My name is John, she found out as they introduced themselves, and she is attracted to me immediately. They exchanged little asides during the afternoon presentations and she could sense that the attraction is mutual. When the sessions are over, they shook hands and parted, but not before I held her hand just a little too long. Carissa’s knees suddenly turn to jelly, and a she feels that fluttery sensation in her belly as she headed back to her room.

She only had an hour to get herself ready for the cocktail reception that is being sponsored for the attendees by one of the conference vendors. Inspired by her meeting with me and the delicious feelings it had stimulated, Carissa set aside the conservative business suit she had planned to wear in favor of a sexy black dress that she had purchased in a boutique as she shopped the day before. She had hoped the dress and sexy lingerie she’d also purchased. But, instead, here she is, slipping the thigh-high stockings over her shapely legs and allowing the tiny black silk thong to nestle seductively between the cheeks of her firm, round ass. As she smoothed the dress and ran her hands over the delicate fabric, Carissa wondered whether she should be wearing the new balconette bra. It lifted her breasts dramatically to emphasize her cleavage, but didn’t quite cover her nipples, which would most certainly show clearly through the wispy fabric of the short black dress. She was a little uncertain about the thigh-highs, too, as the dress was flared from the waist and so short that the tops would surely show if she got the least bit careless with her movements.

Besides, she is hoping against hope that I would be at the reception and she can’t wait to see my reaction. After applying the finishing touches to her makeup and her dark, curly hair, Carissa is out the door and riding the elevator toward the penthouse suite where the reception is to be held. She made her way from the elevator to Room 4901 and stepped through the open door into a crowd of conference participants. They are huddled tightly in little bunches in the posh suite, eating, drinking, and attempting to impress each other. Carissa immediately caught sight of me, as I’m taller then most of the people there. I’m holding court with a knot of about six people gathered around me. She took a glass of wine offered by one of the waiters as she entered and casually made her way toward my group. She is careful not to look as if she is seeking me out, but in reality, she can’t wait to be close to me. Carissa feels the crowd in the room part and dozens of eyes fix on her as she moves gracefully toward where I’m standing. But she didn’t care about those dozens of eyes—she is only interested in seeing the expression in those dark eyes of mine when I first see her. She is not disappointed with my reaction, as I noticed her just as she positioned herself on the edge of the small group I had taken over. Those intense eyes locked onto her and glided over her body, pausing at all the right places. I made no pretense of making this a casual glance. I’m taking my time and memorizing every curve of Carissa’s luscious body, and she feels her cheeks flush at the directness of my gaze. With one of my colleagues in mid-sentence, I abruptly step away and reach for Carissa’s hand.

I took it in mine, and surprised her by twirling her around as if we were on the dance floor. Smiling broadly, I gave out a long, low whistle. Carissa is embarrassed by the attention I’m drawing to her, and she is made further uncomfortable with the knowledge that her little pirouette had probably exposed the tops of her stockings. Maybe more. ” You’re definitely not dressed for work this evening, Carissa,” my eyes surveying her once more before lingering a little too long on her breasts. She is now acutely aware of how hard her nipples have become. ” Just what is it you are dressed for?” As Carissa tried desperately to think of an adequate comeback, her full, red lips parted as if she were about to speak. But nothing came out, and she stood there with an expression that is some weird combination of sexually aroused and downright goofy. Finally, she is able to form a coherent sentence, ” Oh, I found this little thing when I went shopping yesterday. I thought I’d test drive it tonight.” Her cheeks reddened further as she realized how lame that sounded, but she tried to hide her discomfort behind a smile. I smile back, making Carissa feel a little more confident, but then quickly knocked her off balance again. ” Well, I plan to get behind the wheel myself tonight. I always enjoy putting a new model through her paces.” Carissa is suddenly aware that I had been guiding her as we talked over to a far corner of the suite, away from the bar and most of the people. The hum of conversation is much lower as we separated our selves from the other guests and I lower my voice to just above a whisper. ” Did you wear that special outfit for me tonight, Carissa?” There went the knees again. And the butterflies are back, too. She realized her back is literally against the wall and that I’m standing much too close for comfort. Although we weren’t actually touching, I had taken over about 95 percent of her personal space. And my smell.

That familiar but indefinable aroma that said MAN. She is also acutely aware of my eyes again, now staring quite obviously at her cleavage. I’m making no pretense of being discrete. It is as if I wanted her to be sure and notice that I’m noticing. And, of course, it would be impossible not to notice those 34-C breasts, which are lifted high by the new bra and put on display by the deep V neckline of her dress. And I’m at least a foot taller than her 5 feet, 3 inches, had the best view in the house. Carissa is still trying to figure out how to answer my question . . . without admitting that the answer is yes, she did wear the dress for me tonight. And yes, she wore the stockings, the bra and the sexy little thong for me, too. ” It’s okay, Carissa. Sometimes I tease a little too much.