The To-Do List

Author's Note:

This was my first attempt at writing a longer, more detailed story. If you folks like this then let me know, and I'll keep them coming :)

Most secretaries would be fired for wearing a low-cut blouse like hers. Most secretaries wouldn't get away with a tight pencil-skirt and the almost-visible suspenders around her thighs either. Most secretaries, however, aren't married to their bosses – and today is their anniversary.

There are flowers on Lana's desk when she comes in, high heels clicking on the oak floor. That gets a smile from her, which isn't always easy this early in the morning; it's still dark outside.

She savours the scent as she sits behind her desk, stowing her handbag. When she looks up and opens her eyes, her husband is leaning out of his office.

"Like them?" he asks her, smiling.

"How did you get lillies in winter?"

"Trade secret."

"Colour me impressed." She gives him a coy smile as his eyes run down her body, savouring the effect she knows she's having on him. "Can I help you with something?"

"Just enjoying the view."

"You," she lifts her head like a queen and turns to her computer screen, "have lots of work to do. Don't get too distracted."

He gives a heavy sigh, and almost walks back in. She coughs, getting his attention, and he swings right back out.

"Yes?"

She pretends to give him a serious look, pulling down her spectacles and pouting. "Are you going to be able to concentrate, honey?"

"Lana," he groans, "I actually do have work to do, you aren't making this easy."

"Poor soul," she winks, and runs a manicured hand down her neck whilst holding his gaze. Her fingers curl at the inside of her blouse, pulling it open ever so slightly and showing the faintest hint of cleavage. "Try not to think about me too much?"

"Too late," he huffs, and returns to his office.

She bites her lip as he closes the door, letting out an excited shiver.

She has plans for him today – plans that require him being wound up to the nines. The first part of her plan is working perfectly. With a satisfied smile, she flicks open the diaries and planners and starts work for the day.

Anniversary or not, they still have a large company to run.

An hour later, an alarm on her phone goes off. Flicking it off, she turns away on her swivel-chair and sets the phone to the camera. If it's been an hour, she reasons, then he's had plenty of time to forget all about her little display and calm down.

Time to change that.

She crosses her legs at the ankle, unbuttons her blouse a little to show the lace red brassiere beneath, and hikes her skirt up just enough to show the suspender belt holding her thigh-highs in place. With her arms, she pushes her cleavage together and looks up at the camera, biting her lip and giving it the fiery look that she knows he loves.

Click.

Fixing herself – though she's arranged for no client visits today as a precaution – she checks the picture. Vain she is not, but if she ignores the little flaws she'll always find then she's got a lot to be confident about.

Her soft, pale skin goes well with the dark office-wear, and whilst she's no glamour model she has enough under her blouse to turn an eye. Auburn hair the colour of autumn would usually spill over her shoulders in large curls, but it's tied up for work.

Besides, she thinks, if it's not tied up then she can't unfurl it later for dramatic effect when she tears his trousers open and mounts him on the desk.

Smiling, she adds the caption:

Don't work too hard handsome

She sends it to him, and sits the phone down, waiting.

A few seconds later, she hears a discontented sigh and laughs to herself. Her phone buzzes to a short, grumpy text with no kisses:

Don't make me come through there.

Not if I come to you first, she thinks, and suppresses another grin as she returns to her work. She can practically hear his boxers straining from here, and relishes the thought.

Crossing her legs again, she squeezes her thighs together, quivering at the tingling warmth between them.

Another hour passes, and another alarm goes off on her phone.

She gets up, adjusting herself and making sure that everything is just visible enough to catch his attention. Her high heels clop across the floor, and she eases the door open and closes it behind herself.

Her husband looks up from his work, a little red faced and flustered, and raises his eyebrows. She gives him a knowing grin, and locks the door.

Pressing her back against the door with her palms flat on her thighs, she gives him a wide eyed look and feigns innocence.

"Tom, honey," she croons, "are you having a good day?"

"Oh, it's been ok so far," he winks.

She bites her lip and brings one hand up to her blouse, easing it open at the top and leaning forward just a little. "Enjoying your anniversary?"

He pushes his chair out from his curved, modern-looking desk and leans back, taking in the view. Tom nods, his dark eyes running over the curve of her hips.

"Well," she continues, glancing at the bulge in his suit-trousers. "I know we've got those rules about office romances and everything, but -"

"Shut up and get over here."

She curls her lips upward at the edges, fighting a smile.

"Make me."

"I will," he says, and almost gets out of his chair.

She stops him with a finger and starts walking forward. "You stay right there."

"Oh?"

"It's a special day," she says as she stands above him, hands laced behind her back. "And we've got as long as we want."

"Benefits of being your own boss," he smiles, that firm and reassuring smile that she's come to love.

She leans forward and whispers in his ear, giving him a glance down her blouse. "I've got plans for you, mister. So sit back and stop fighting it."

With one delicate finger on his tie, she pushes him back into the chair. His hands run around her stocking-clad thigh, running up towards the cusp of her ass. With a playful smile, she bats his hands away and leans in as though to kiss him.

He comes forward, and she puts a soft hand on his stubbled jaw and opens her mouth, drawing back as he moves in for the kiss. She lets his searching tongue find the tip of hers and no more, closing her mouth with a smile.

"I hate you sometimes," he whispers.

She leans in again. "Will you still hate me when this all pays off?"

"Probably not," he admits.

Shivering with anticipation, she runs one hand down his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of his tensed muscles beneath.

"You're awful tense," she says, running a hand down to his belt and unbuckling it with a snap. "We're going to have to do something about that."

Slinking to her knees, she eases his belt off and undoes the button and zip on his trousers. He lets out a sigh and leans back, one hand gripping her shoulder. Through his dark boxers she can see the small, wet spot at the tip of his bulge where he's leaking pre-cum.

Lana leans forward and kisses the tip through his boxers. He shudders, his cock twitching behind the fabric. Leaning back, she savours the moment and peels his boxers away, letting his throbbing cock free. With a contented sigh, he opens his eyes and looks down at her.

Those dark eyes stare into hers as she runs a tongue around her lips, moistening them, and wraps a delicate hand around the base of his cock.

"Have I got you wound up, yet?" she asks. He nods, barely able to talk. "Have I got you right on the edge?"

He grunts a response, one hand gripping the back of her head.

"Good," she whispers.

Without any warning, she surges forward and wraps her wet lips around his helmet, swirling her tongue and plunging her mouth down on him.

He groans and tenses, lifting his hips from the chair and forcing his cock further down her throat. With one hand she works his shaft, running her fingers up and down, tightening and rippling them. Her lips, meanwhile, suck him in and keep him there, running over the bottom of his helmet faster, and faster.

She feels him tense, his breath held, and stops for a moment. Lifting her, mouth from him, she revels in watching him twitch.

"Don't stop," he whispers. "Don't stop."

"It'd be a shame if I did," she says, and kisses his still-trembling cock. "That would just be horrible."

"Lana, please," he groans, his hands grabbing at her shoulders and head, trying to pull her in towards him.

"Oh," she whispers, letting go of him and standing up, "I could do much worse than stop."

She puts her knees on either side of him, straddling him in his office chair. It takes their weight as she leans him back in it, his wet cock sitting against his stomach.

He looks at her with burning, lust-filled eyes and grabs her ass in both hands, trying to pull her pussy in closer to him. Scooting a little closer, she lets the silk of her red panties brush against him, and he shivers again.

"Wow," she whispers, "I must have you really worked up."

He nods, and tries to pull her down by the neck, his jaw slack. Reaching down, she pulls her panties aside, batting his hands away as he tries to undo her blouse. She feels his hard cock brushing against her moistness, and trembles as she grabs him in one hand and guides him towards her pussy.

His cock sits at her opening, and her thighs keep him from thrusting up into her like he wants to.

"Ah-ah," she says, pressing her forehead against his. "This is my treat, handsome. Don't move."

She hears his heavy breathing in her ear as she lowers herself onto his erection, suppressing a gasp as she feels him stretching her and filling her. He tenses and grasps at her as she pushes further down, till the cheeks of her ass brush against his legs and he's entirely inside her.

"Oh god," she whispers, and bucks her hips against him, feeling the tingling surge of pleasure running through her bones like a shock. She tries to stay still, feeling his cock twitch inside her.

Working her thighs, she lifts herself off of him, until her pussy lips are tightening around the tip of his helmet. Then she bears down again, driving his cock all the way inside of her. He throws his head back, groaning, pushing her down further with his hands on her hips, driving his cock up into her.

"Stop, stop," she says, and lifts herself off of him. "This wasn't the plan."

"What?" he breathes, staring into her eyes.

She gets off of him, her legs trembling. "You've got another hour to wait, stud," she grins and takes a step back.

"No way," he says, and stands up, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her in close. "Absolutely no way."

"Ah-ah," she says, turning a cheek as he tries to kiss her. "I'm in charge today."

He pulls her skirt up, running his hands down over her ass and pulling her in against his hard cock.

"What if I say otherwise?"

"Then," she pulls back and looks him in the eye, "I'll fight you all the way. Meaning you're probably," she leans in and whispers in his ear, "going to have to tie me up to make sure I can't stop you from fucking me hard, aren't you? Is that what you've been thinking about doing all day?"

Without a word, he rips off his tie and grabs her wrists. She finally kisses him without holding back, their tongues swirling in one another's mouth, biting each other's lips with unquenched passion. His strong hands pin her wrists together behind her back, and with his tie he binds them tight together.

He doesn't need to say anything as their lips part. Guiding her towards the desk, he grabs her bound hands and holds her steady as he lowers her onto the desk. Bent over and helpless, her perfect, round ass is bared to him. Running a hand over it, he squeezes the soft skin and teases his fingers around the lips of her dripping wet pussy.

"Winding me up like that," he says, running a single finger down over her trembling clit. "That was very, very bad of you."

"Mhm?"

With his open palm, he slaps her bared ass. The clapping sound echoes around the office, and she tenses and squeals.

"I think you need to be punished," he says, and spanks her again. Her legs are shaking, still in high heels. Tom grabs her bound hands and pulls on them, arching her back. With his other hand, he guides his cock into her aching pussy.

She opens her mouth, moaning in silence as he pushes into her wetness. His cock fills her from within, and with his hand free he runs it around her hips to her clit, brushing his fingers over it with a gentleness unexpected from a man like Tom.

"Oh god," she murmurs, pushing back against him as his abdomen meets her ass. "Oh god, I've been so bad. Fuck me like a bad girl."

He obliges. Keeping her arms pulled back and her back arched, Tom plunges into her again and again. His pelvis slams against her, and she rocks her hips in tandem with his. Every thrust burns dots into her vision, her mind reeling.

Over and over again, Tom plows into her from behind, his fingers dancing over her clit. With her legs trembling, Tom pushes her forward onto the desk and slaps her ass hard with his free hand.

The mixture of pleasure and pain is too much for her, and Lana feels her pussy tightening with the surges of her orgasm. Her legs begin to buckle, and Tom grabs her hips and holds her steady.

She's helpless in his strong arms, being fucked hard over his desk.

"Oh god Tom," she murmurs, "oh god. I'm going to – you're going to make me -"

She climaxes with a long, loud moan, and he only fucks her faster. Her moan turns to a scream, his cock pounding her faster and harder, faster and harder, until -

Trembling, she feels him slip out of her pussy. A second later, with a grunt and his hand grasping her hips, she feels his warm cum spurting over her back and her ass.

He collapses forward on top of her, and sleepily undoes her bindings. Breathless and light headed, they finally get to their feet and she sits on the edge the desk. Leaning into one another, they hold each other in the afterglow.

She laughs after a while, still trying to breathe.

"Happy anniversary," she smiles, and he kisses her with a sudden tenderness.

"Here's to another five years," he says as they passionately lock lips.

"So was that, y'know," she bites her lip, "ok for you?"

"Oh it was passable," he laughs.

"Good, because I don't think our anniversary day is actually over yet."

"Oh?"

"Oh yeah, there's more where that came from."

"Good," he says. "I can deal with that."

She stops as though remembering something important.

"What is it?" he asks, seeing the urgency in her eyes.

Lana checks her watch. "You've got lunch with someone in an hour, I can't remember who."

"Oh yeah," he says. "That's the spokesperson for Carson Group."

"What's Carson Group?"

"They're an international conglomerate. Rumour is they're thinking of making an offer."

"What, to buy us?"

"Yeah."

There they stand, discussing business with their clothes half off and their faces still red.

"Why would an international conglomerate want to buy a little technology start-up like ours?"

"We've grown darling," says Tom. "You've seen the figures. We've got millions of users."

"What's their offer?"

"Well they haven't made one, yet."

"Would you sell?"

"If the price is right. It would be nice to retire at thirty and just travel the world, wouldn't it?"

Her eyes light up. "Yeah," she kisses him. "It would. I mean, I'd miss getting to be your secretary, but..."

"No, no," he says. "You could stop being my secretary, but I think I like the uniform."

"I can keep the uniform?" she bites her lip again.

"Oh I suppose."

She kisses his stubbled cheek. "Selling the company. That's a lot to think about."

"I know. I'm a little nervous to be honest. I should really prepare."

"Ok," she says, and slides off the desk. Standing, she's at least a foot smaller than him, even in heels. She leans up and kisses him. "Don't worry, you'll do fine."

"I know," he says. "And it's still our anniversary, so don't get too comfortable."

"Oh?" She pulls her skirt down and fixes her blouse as he does his trousers up. "Do you have plans or something?"

"Maybe. Now let me get ready for this."

"Yes sir," she winks, and leaves him one last kiss and a lasting image of her hips rocking as she walks out of his office.

Not an hour later, Lana hears the door open across the office, and Tom comes rushing out with a briefcase in one hand and a phone in the other. He's red-faced and out of breath, and storms past her with barely a glance.

"Tom -" she begins, looking up from her computer.

He holds up his hand: not now.

Lana raises an offended eyebrow and looks down at her half-open blouse, checking that her breasts are in fact still there.

Still on the phone, Tom stares into space as he listens. Lana strains her hears but can't make out a word. After a pause, he sighs.

"Ok," he says. "I understand."

Tom hangs up the phone and stands there, staring at Lana with his shoulders sagging.

"Who was that?"

"The guy from Carson group. Meeting's been postponed for two hours."

"Well that's nothing to stress about -"

"So that he can meet with our competitor."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Tom folds his arms and looks down at the floor.

"Do you think they might buy them instead?"

"From a business standpoint? It makes more sense. Our competitor has a smaller user-base than us, but they're more appealing to advertisers: they filter opinions and profanity and such."

"But that's censorship."

"I don't think Carson Group really care. They're more interested in how much they can make off their new purchase. We're bigger, and we get a lot of support from free-speech groups, but that comes at a price."

He walks forward and sits on the edge of her desk, letting out a frustrated breath. In response, she gets up and joins him, shuffling her curved hips beside him and leaning into his strong frame.

"You'll nail it."

"What if I don't? Ah, I shouldn't have told you I was going to sell the business, now it might all fall through -"

"Hey," she stops him with a finger to his lips, and they look into each other's eyes. "I am quite happy where I am. It would be nice to have all that money and freedom, but the important stuff," she pats him on the chest," is right here."

Smiling, he leans in and kisses her. Her soft lips part for him, and she snakes a hand around his neck and lets a long, contented sigh into his mouth.

"You," he says as they part, "are the best. I should really prepare for the meeting, I need to work out a strategy to convince Carson Group to buy us instead of those idiots in the south-side."

"Well, for one: their CEO doesn't look as good as you in a three-piece, and doesn't have a stupidly hot secretary."

"Very true," he says, and stands up.

She takes his hand and gives him a warm, reassuring look. "You'll be fine, handsome."

"I know. Y'know, Lana, you could probably take the rest of the day off."

"While you work hard in here? Sit bored and alone at home while you go and do interesting stuff? No thanks."

"If you insist." he leans in and kisses her again, then starts to walk away.

"And Tom?"

He turns back. "Hm?"

"You're all tense. Take a big breath like I taught you. Clear that head-space."

"I'm a businessman, not a hippie."

"It's not being a hippie, it works. Trust me, you can't go in all tense and jittery."

"Ok," he says, and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, his eyes seem a little brighter. "Ok, I'm good. I'll see you in an hour or two. I need to prepare for this now that I know we have competition."

"Have fun," she winks.

He turns and walks back into his office, and her eyes trace down his suit to the bulge forming in the leg of his trousers. She can't let him go to an important meeting all tense and – well – hard.