Your erotic stories

Lori walked into the conference room with confidence, swinging her hips with each step. Her boss, Ryan, gazed at her legs as she strode past him, her heels clicking loudly on the floor. She took a seat next to his, crossing her legs with a rasp of fabrics as her black pencil skirt slid over her nylons. The meeting chairs were leather, cozy, and the large table was glass. Sitting next to Lori, Ryan had an excellent view of her legs and that's the way he liked it.

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Tuesday morning I took special care in getting ready for work; knowing it was Jacks usual day to frequent the library. I'd spent the night (like most others that week) dreaming of Jack's sweet seduction and our "date" last week. Scanning the conservative work clothes in my closet I finally settled on the form-fitting black skirt and the soft red sweater. I was so nervous; it took me several tries just to get the seams straight on the backs of my stockings. The morning seemed to take forever to pass and after lunch I'd stood at my office window, lost in fantasies of Jack.

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To the average outsider, Paul had the world at his feet at the age of thirty. He'd been in charge of the entertainment agency since his father passed away four years earlier. He had a beautiful, spacious office that showed the city's skyline behind his desk, fine, mahogany furniture, with a imported leather couch in one corner. He drove a vintage Mercedes, lived in a dazzling condo in the best part of the city, and money seemed endless.

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I was sitting at my desk when I heard the familiar tap tap on my cubical wall. Not having a door means you make do with whatever approximation you can. "Mark, I need you to go to Japan for me," my manager said. I looked up from my monitor. I had been engrossed in a riveting and fascinating technology brief (not!), and welcomed the interruption. Even so, though, it took me a second to register what he said.

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I had been back at work on Monday, but Blake didn't act as if anything had happened. I guess I should explain. I had tricked Blake into taking me with him on one of his business trips by telling him that the escort service couldn't provide anyone and I volunteered to go instead. I expected to do whatever I could to secure a renewal of the contract and make him proud of me.

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Tequila shots, mistletoe and the most stupid decision of my life. It was ten months ago but I still couldn't meet Nathan Reese's eyes. And it grated. Not just because of the stupid, stupid Christmas party sex I regretted with all my being, but because after the meeting I'd just endured I really, really wanted to glare at him right now. And I couldn't because every time I looked at him I thought of when he....when I let him....

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Karen glanced at the clock, frowned, and realized she had probably missed the director of accounting by fifteen minutes. It was 6:45 in the evening, she was hungry and stressed, and this folder of papers was promised to be on his desk before he left the building. She picked up her phone and dialed the extension of his assistant. Three rings ... four ... voicemail. No one there. She pushed the handset hard into the plastic cradle in frustration, slid her feet back into her high-heeled shoes beneath the broad oak desk and pushed up from her tall, black leather seat.

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I won the lottery. Really big....over 300 million dollars paid out over the next 25 years. In my late twenties and now filthy rich. What to do? What to do? After I won, I did all the things that you are supposed to do: traveled, bought a nice house, not too big but certainly big enough, and pampered myself with all the gadgets and everything else to fill out my home. One of the things I pampered myself with was Sarah.

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