Allure of the Vixen

Published by YRBS

Copyright © 2015 by C. C. Morian

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons, is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

ALLURE OF THE VIXEN

About the
author

Books by C.
C. Morian

Books by C.
C. Morian and Blaise Quin

Find Out
About New Releases

by

C. C. Morian

I don’t do office romances.

In a prior job, I’d had one, and it was a disaster. Not
the romance, but the aftereffects. Not only for me, but for her. I swore I’d
never again get involved with someone at the office. There were plenty of other
women out there to fuck. So in my new company, I studiously avoided putting
myself in situations where something could happen, like going out for drinks
after work. I never flirted with anyone, staying totally businesslike and
professional. If women came on to me I ignored it.

But avoiding romance in my office was often a
challenge; long work nights and frequent business trips put a lot of the
employees in positions where they were spending a lot of time with work
colleagues—often more than with their spouses. It led to an inevitable amount
of sleeping around, which the company frowned upon, but couldn’t really do much
about, unless it was a manager and subordinate thing. Even that was hard to
police. Single men and women slept together, married men and women slept
together, and single and married people slept together.

I don’t want to give the impression that the company
was one big sex retreat, far from it, everyone worked really hard, and the
competition was intense. A lot of people were so focused on their careers they
had no interest in being sidetracked or diverted by an affair or even a quick
roll in the hay. This was especially true for the women, who had to work extra
hard just to get on an even playing field with the men, it being a male
dominated culture and industry. And sleeping around to get ahead was definitely
not a ticket for anyone, male or female, as quite a few people had discovered.

But. . .put men and women together, for
long hours, under stress, out of town, free from their other lives, their non
work lives, and things just happen. It’s biology.

I was viewed as being fair as a manager by the
people who worked for me, a good employee by the owners, and maybe a little
mysterious by everyone, since I didn’t discuss my personal life much. It was
just no one’s business. To the women, I was also considered safe, since I
didn’t hit on them. After a while some of them, especially the married ones,
began to flirt with me, teasingly, not really meaning anything.  They even
talked about finding me a nice girlfriend. I went along good naturedly, and
everyone enjoyed the banter. I didn’t really break my rule about not flirting,
I didn’t respond in kind, but just laughed it off. Seeing that I didn’t take it
seriously, even the single women got in on the act.

So I thought nothing of it when Joanne, the hottest
woman in the office, tried to wheedle information out of me about my love life.
Well, maybe I thought a little about it, because if you saw Joanne you’d know
what I mean. Joanne was the woman every guy in the office lusted after, and
maybe some of the women as well. Not only was she gorgeous, she had a killer
body. I kept in great shape myself, and a tight body was the first thing I
looked for in a woman. I’d heard that Joanne went to the gym every day, and her
stomach was so flat you could bounce a quarter off of it. She had these killer
green eyes, with long lashes, her hair in that hue in between blonde and brown
that made it look really down to earth and natural, which gave her otherwise
elegant looks a hint of the approachability. Yet she could also appear sultry
and sensuous seemingly at will.

Joanne was always dressed immaculately, in stylish
outfits that were totally appropriate for a professional business environment.
But because her body was so good, she just looked better than the other women.
Her legs were absolutely perfect, nicely toned, with thighs that you could see
through. From her time in the gym, her arms had a wonderful firmness, not the
flab that so many busy women had, who didn’t have time to work out. Joanne was
just as busy as the rest of us, but she made time. When she wore a sleeveless
dress, nothing wiggled in her arms, you could see the outline of her triceps,
which was wickedly sensual. Her breasts were just the right size, and they jut
out, erect, like they had muscles of their own. With a thin waist and hips, the
effect was incredibly alluring; she was even better looking than most models,
with their stick legs, bony asses, no breasts, and vacant stares. She had olive
skin and the slightest accent that I couldn’t place, something European, an
exotic voice to match an exotic look.  

In my experience, women who had bodies like hers did
one of two things. Some dressed to show off all of their assets, dresses too
short, heels too high, necklines too low. Sleazy. The rest went to the other
extreme, hiding everything in loose baggy clothing, afraid of being labeled as
a bimbo. Joanne did neither. But I recognized her subtly, she was fully aware
of what she had, and she found a way to show it off. It was far more practiced
than it appeared.

Just that should have been a warning, especially to
me.

I almost didn’t befriend Joanne. I’d been with my
share of women, all of them good looking, and though I am a very confident guy,
Joanne was so tempting that I was always a little careful around her, trying
hard not to stare, keeping my communications short and limited to work. Strong
willed as I was, I was afraid I’d  succumb and do something stupid.

If I had met her anywhere else except the office, I
would have wanted her. Given the circumstances, I wanted her, but I wouldn’t
have her.  

But one night, at the company holiday party, I found
myself in a group of people. Joanne was there. She was funny in that dry humor
sense of way, saying something outlandish with a perfectly serious face, until
you’d realized she was joking. She had an amazing ability to put people at
ease, probably gleaned from a long history of having to disarm both men and
women, men who wanted to fuck her, and women who were jealous. To the other
women, her personality helped mitigate her beauty, and she actually had a lot
of women friends, women who might otherwise be jealous of her body and looks.

That night, maybe because I’d had a few drinks, I
had my first non work related interaction with her, not really in private,
there were plenty of other people around, but there was also a lot of noise
from other conversations and the music.

Marie, one of the secretaries, who definitely had
too much to drink, was lustily eying one of the guys from the manufacturing
department. “So what’s your story, Dan?”

 “What do you mean?” Dan asked.

“I never catch you looking at the ladies,” said
Marie.

“I, uh,” Dan mumbled, confused.

Everyone laughed, not really at Dan, just at the
interchange. “You keep track of who is looking at who in the office?” asked
another guy, who I didn’t really know.

Marie took a big swig of her drink. “That’s the most
fun part of my job. You guys are so oblivious. You think you are being
surreptitious, ogling someone when you don’t think they are looking. But what
you don’t think about is who might be looking at
you
.”

Quite a few of the men’s faces reddened at that, and
there was some nervous laughter, everyone, including me, probably thinking
about having done just that. I don’t redden, I can control that, but it did
make me resolve to keep an eye open to see when Marie was around. The women
laughed.

Marie wagged her finger. “Oh, you ladies, you are
just as guilty. I see you checking out the men, too.”

“So
you
never look?” asked Joanne. “Maybe
someone is watching you, too.”

Marie smiled. “Hey, I’m upfront about it. I make no
secret of who I think is worth looking at.” She stared at Dan, who fidgeted.
“So Dan, you didn’t answer my question. You gay or something?”

“Let’s not go there,” I warned.

“Of course not,” said Marie. “I just want to know if
I should keep track of whether he is looking at men or women.”

Or whether you should write him off your list as
someone you want to screw around with, I thought.

Dan recovered his wits. “I better watch where I look
from now on. And by the way, I’m straight.”

“So are you keeping notes on everyone, Marie? Maybe
planning a little blackmail?” asked Joanne, her tone suggesting that blackmail
was something interesting.

“I’m not sure I want to hear the answer to that,”
said someone else, and everyone laughed again.

Marie ignored the comment. “I’m not planning any
blackmail, just looking is juicy enough. But I do have a list on
everyone
. . .”
She looked around the group, holding each person with a stern look in her eyes.
A lot of people glanced away, and others looked a little nervous. I watched it
all, more interested than I thought I’d be, I wasn’t one for office gossip, but
maybe underneath it all wondering who Marie had caught me staring at.

Like Joanne. I glanced over at her, even in this
environment, especially given the topic of conversation, acutely aware of where
I was looking, not wanting to get spotted staring at Joanne. Normally I
wouldn’t care, if I’d been at a bar I wouldn’t give a shit who saw what I did
and who I set my sights on. Joanne’s cheeks were flushed, which surprised me;
in my few interactions with her she had been the consummate professional, I
never took her as the kind who would be spending her time mooning over men in
the office. But she looked very guilty right now.

Joanne glanced over at me and caught me looking at
her. She colored even more, the flush highlighting her strong cheekbones. She held
my eye, and then languidly turned away.

What was that all about?

“Yes, I have notes on everyone,” said Marie, still
looking right at Joanne. I expected Joanne to say something, to put Marie in
her place, but Joanne was oddly silent. Marie smiled deviously. “Everyone that
is, except. . .” She let the words hang there, now the complete
center of attention, obviously enjoying this bit of power. “Except you, Michael.”
Marie turned to me, her eyes twinkling.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
Marie’s voice had been teasing, and I didn’t know what to make of it. I
certainly had checked out women in the office, even though I had tried to be
discreet. But I’m sure the other guys had tried to also be discreet, and Marie
had obviously noticed. Or maybe she was making it all up, just to get
attention, or to have some fun. Marie was cute enough, but she was a dressed a
little too sleazy for me, she wasn’t my type.  But she seemed like she’d be a
lot of fun, under the right circumstances, to hang out with, like this, the
life of the party.

“Well, Marie,” I said. “Maybe I need to see if we
can get management to give you some extra work, you seem to have a lot of time
on your hands.” I kept my face straight as I made this threat.

Marie wasn’t buying any of it. “Go ahead,” she said,
flipping her hand dismissively. “Burden me with the weight of the world, it
will just give me more incentive to escape into exciting fantasies of what
everyone is thinking—or doing.”

Now everyone realized Marie was just having fun, and
the mood lightened a little. “We’ll be starting to watch you, too, Marie,”
someone said.

Marie widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Starting? And
here I was thinking you men were watching me all the time.” She batted her
eyes. “Besides, I’m not the only one keeping track. I have a partner in crime.
She’s told me all about which of you—” again Marie looked at each of the
men—“have been checking
me
out.”

“It’s like George Orwell,” said Dan. “You are
keeping track of everyone.”

“I told you, not everyone,” said Marie. She turned
back to me. “I still don’t know your story, Michael.”

I just nodded mysteriously. “I could tell you, but
then I’d—” I left it hanging, letting everyone fill in the words
have to kill
you
—“take away all your fun.”

“Nah,” said Marie. “Plenty of other people to keep
track of. Although I’d still want to know.”

I just smiled, but inside, I was thinking that I’d
have to be extra careful around the office. Marie was fun, but she wasn’t very
discreet, and if word got around, the next thing someone could be hauled in for
discussions about sexual discrimination or creating a bad work environment. I
was wondering how to bring that up, because Marie, as innocent as she was
being, might be making some people uncomfortable.

But this wasn’t the place to do that. Time to change
the subject. “Who needs another drink?” I asked.

There was a chorus of “Me, me!” I took orders, but
it soon became clear I wouldn’t be able to carry all the drinks.

“I’ll go with you,” offered Joanne.

And that’s how I found myself standing next to
Joanne at the bar, waiting on the bartender to get the drinks. For a brief
moment, we were kind of alone in the crowd.

“That was an interesting conversation,” said Joanne.

I glanced back at the group we were with, very aware
of how close I was to Joanne, almost afraid of looking directly at her, because
I didn’t know if I trusted myself to watch what I said.  Someone jostled Joanne
on the way past the bar, pressing her body into mine, and involuntarily I
reached out to steady her, and was stunned by how warm her bare arm was. It was
very cool in the room, the air conditioner on even in the winter due to the
huge crowd. My image of Joanne had always been one of aloof elegance, and I had
for some reason equated that with someone cool, not an ice queen, but certainly
not hot and flushed.

Joanne’s eyes caught mine, and now her face flushed
again, just as she had when Marie had called her out. I looked away. Joanne
held on to me for a few seconds before letting go, her fingers ribbons of heat.

“Excuse me,” she said, although she didn’t sound at
all sorry. Her voice had a hint of promise to it, a softness.

“No problem,” I said. “Just some guy not watching
where he was going.” I was not going to let myself read anything into Joanne’s
voice, this was the time to be strong. I didn’t want to be seen as hitting on
someone in the office
.
And I didn’t want to be ensnared by Joanne’s
allure.