Leslie sat on the couch and looked at her living room. It was gorgeous. It had been beige when she moved in, but she was not a beige sort of girl. She had selected a beautiful shade of apricot, and painted the place herself. It had been a lot of work, work which she did not particularly enjoy. She had had to skip part of the wall behind her entertainment center, it was just too awkward to move.

But that was her little secret. The room had ended up looking great, so much better than beige. It lifted her spirits to come home and bask in its color. At least that was true on most days. Today was different, it had not been a good day. Leslie had woken up lonely, which in itself was not that unusual. She had ended a fairly serious relationship a few months before, and she missed having someone to care for and who cared for her.

She usually didn't let it bother her. Instead, she just worked harder at her job with IBM. Hard enough that she didn't have time to dwell on her feelings. It wasn't hard to do. She was responsible for rolling out a new software package to sites all around the world. There were always problems that needed to be solved. She could have worked 24 hours a day and not gotten everything done.

Instead, she choose to work about 12. But working her ass off for IBM was only tolerable if the work was fun and she felt appreciated. Neither of those had happened today. Leslie's woes had started off early that morning. It seemed that Linda, an old manager of her's, was going to be returning to her department. Leslie really did not like Linda.

It had been a wonderful day when Linda left. She had actually felt sick to her stomach when the announcement was made. To make matters worse, it had not been decided exactly what Linda's new role was going to be. So Leslie got to worry about it until it was decided. She just knew they were going to make her work for Linda again.

It was not a pleasant thought. The afternoon had not been any better. Another announcement, this time arriving by email. It seemed that Shelly was being promoted to manager. Leslie felt the anger and indignation rise up in her as she read the mail. Leslie had let it be know that she was interested in that position.

She also knew that no one was working nearly as hard as she was. She had poured her heart and soul out to do this job. She worked insane hours. She let it destroy her personal life and tear up her relationships. She did all this, and ultimately IBM didn't give a fuck.

Nobody gave a fuck. At that point Leslie had started surfing the internet. She had decided she was not doing any more work for IBM that day. It had been her silent protest. She had eventually ended up on a site full of erotic stories. Erotica was not something she normally read, she never had the time. But today it had been what she wanted.

She had been vaguely aware that she was violating some company policy by visiting that site from work, but that sure as hell hadn't stopped her today. The company could go and screw itself. Leslie had found herself drawn to the more extreme stories. In real life she was not into the tie me up and spank me stuff. Well, at least not usually. But today it had been what she wanted to read. After a few stories she found herself really excited, sitting in her office chair in soaking panties.

She had briefly wondered if anyone at IBM had written a policy forbidding masturbating in the restrooms, though she had quickly dismissed that idea. She was far too professional for that, even if she was pissed. She had just crossed her legs, and read another story. "Are you coming?" a voice had boomed from behind her. Leslie had spun around, horror on her face. She had opened her mouth to answer but could find no words. "Sorry to scare you," Bob had laughed. He was an office mate from 2 cubes down.

"We are supposed to be in that meeting about the Tokyo roll out in 2 minutes." "Sure, I'll be right there," Leslie had replied, feeling the relief wash over her. "Thank God that site didn't have any pictures on it," she had thought, "or my ass would be toast." Leslie had arrived at the meeting right as it was about to start. Bob began speaking but she couldn't get into what he was saying. She just wanted to go home. The excitement from her reading had passed quickly.

Now she was simply stuck in a boring meeting in wet panties. Finally it was over. Leslie was the first one to leave. She didn't even go back to her cube. Instead she walked outside, and drove home. Leslie had walked into her house and glanced at the clock. 4:15 PM. "When was the last time I got home so early?" she had asked herself. She couldn't remember. She had made herself a drink and slowly consumed it as she walked around her house.

Now Leslie was sitting on her couch, in her beautiful apricot living room, wishing the color and brightness would work their magic spell. But no magic came forth. At first she only knew that she was sad, but as she closed her eyes and reflected upon herself, she realized that she was lonely. Leslie walked over to her computer to see who was around.

Perhaps talking with someone would make her feel better. No one she was really close to was there. Charles was online. He was a guy that she had chatted with before, but never met. "Hi there," she typed, and sent it to him. He answered and they chatted a while, but it didn't do much to make her feel better. She wanted to talk with a real person, face to face. Computer chat was a poor substitute for that. Leslie toyed with the idea of inviting him over.

At first she dismissed the thought. He would just think she wanted to screw him. Then an idea came to her. A way she could do it with out committing to anything. "Hey Charles," she typed into her IM program, "would you help me move my TV? I need to paint behind it." She hit send before she had time to change her mind. "Sure, I'll be glad to babe," came his reply. Now Leslie fell apart. She had a guy coming over. She hadn't cleaned.

She didn't have time to change clothes. Her makeup had been on since 7:00 that morning. On top of all that she hoped she hadn't invited a stalker or a rapist over to her house. The minutes ticked by slowly. Finally there was a knock at the door. She opened it and smiled. She liked what she saw. "Hi Leslie," she heard his deep voice say. "Its good to finally meet you. I brought you these as a house warming present." Leslie looked down. Charles had brought her flowers.

Twelve roses. Six red and six white. She hadn't expected that. Of all the possibilities in the world that she had imagined, that one never crossed her mind. She was completely unprepared for it. Then Leslie did something that was truly out of character for her. She started to cry. She hated herself for doing it as soon as she started, but that only made things worse.

Leslie heard the door close. Charles put his arms around her. Wow, how long had it been since someone held her. She couldn't remember. It certainly felt good. She moved closer to him and hid her face under his chin. She felt him reach up and cradle her head in his hands, caressing the back of her neck. She liked this.

She liked the care, and the touching and the holding. She liked the light sent of his aftershave and the roughness of his neck against her face. The only thing she didn't like was that she was crying. "Leslie, what's wrong?" "I'm sorry," she answered. "Give me a minute, I'm not usually like this. It has just been so long since someone did something nice for me.

I forgot how good it felt. I'll be OK in a second." "Don't apologize babe," he answered. "Are you having a rough time?" Babe. He called her babe. He did that when they chatted on the internet. But on the internet everyone was babe, or sweetie, or hon. It didn't mean anything there. But here, in real life, in her apricot living room it made her feel special. "You have no idea," she answered, still hiding her face under his chin. "I pour my life into work, and they don't care.

No one else cares either. It just gets so lonely after a while." "Come over here and sit down," he said leading her over to her couch. "What's going on at work?" He asked, pulling her close to him. Leslie wasn't crying anymore, but Charles still held her like she might start. She didn't mind. It felt good to be touched. She told him about work.

Just a little at first. But he really seemed to be interested, so she started going into more details. It was wonderful to talk with someone who seemed to care. Long ago someone had told Leslie that conversation was excellent foreplay. She had always found that to be true, and now was no exception. Of course it didn't hurt that she had spent a couple of hours that afternoon reading erotica, nor that she was in the muscular arms of a handsome guy.

She didn't feel like figuring out how to maneuver the conversation around to what she wanted, so she just turned around and kissed Charles, hoping that she wouldn't shock him. Leslie felt Charles pull her close as his lips parted. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and felt the desire course through his body. Someone wanted her. It made her that much more excited. She felt herself getting wet. She bit him on the neck. Hard.

She felt his hand on her side. He was stroking her lightly, just barley touching her. He started exploring her body with his touch, looking for the spots that sent quivers down her spine. He found the one on her side right below her ribs. He discovered one about 4 inches away that she hadn't known was there. Then he found the one right below her breasts that she definitely knew was there. She felt his hands move under the center of her bra and spread out over her breasts.

That demanded more than a quiver. She grabbed his thick dark hair with both hands and pulled his head back. She kissed him, biting his lip in the process. She pulled herself into him and pinned his hands to her breasts. He squeezed, causing waves of pleasure to ripple from his hands, to which she responded by tightening her grip on his hair until she was afraid she was going to pull it out.

"You shouldn't touch me like that unless you mean it," Leslie said, pulling herself away from him. "Oh, I mean it babe. You can count on that." "I know you do," she said as she stood up. She was still wearing her clothes. That had been fine when she answered the door, but now they were getting in the way. She unbuttoned her blouse, watching Charles watch her as she slipped it off. Next came the bra.

Finally she stepped out of her pants, leaving them piled on the floor. She stood in front of him, wearing only her black panties. He rose from the couch and stood behind her. His arms encircled her, pulling her back against his chest. She slid her fingers behind his neck and into his hair, pulling him toward her.

His muscular frame did not move, but the force cemented her body to his. Leslie felt his hands on her sides again. They made their way around her stomach and found her breasts. He cupped one in each hand, pinching her nipples between his thumbs and the sides of his index fingers. She closed her eyes and moaned, pulling harder against him.

She felt one of his hands move. He trailed it slowly down to the top of her waistband, teasing her with it. Then he continued his journey, raking his fingers slowly through the course hair he found between her legs, pressing her swollen lips together. Leslie was in ecstasy. She pressed herself into his hand with such force that her feet came off the floor.

She thrashed wildly as she sought to grind against his palm, but she found she couldn't move. Charles was holding her tightly to himself. She liked the feeling of being dominated. She struggled against his grasp, and to her delight he restrained her effortlessly. She felt a finger part her lips and slide inside her. She wanted to scream.

Then she felt anther finger go in and she did scream. She would later hope that the neighbors didn't hear, but that was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment. She tried to thrust against his fingers, but he was still holding her, making it difficult to move. "Would you please just fuck me now," Leslie panted as she tried to impale herself more deeply around his fingers.

With a speed that took her breath away, Charles spun her around and set her on the carpet. He lay across her, resting some of his weight on her chest. "Don't worry babe," he growled, looking into her eyes with a passion that both excited and frightened her, "I'll make sure you get plenty of fucking." He reached around and snatched off her panties. His fingers went back in. Three this time. Fast and furious, plunging deep inside her.

Leslie felt like she was on fire. Her body tensed. She screamed as she came, struggling against the arms that held her, and delighted that she was powerless to get away. Charles stood and unzipped his slacks, discarding them into a corner of the room. He gave her a scorching look as he pealed off his briefs, leaving no doubt as to his intentions.

He rejoined her on the floor, whispering "Roll over babe," in her ear. Leslie complied though she was not sure what he was going to do. Charles lay beside her. He reached over her with one hand and placed it on her pussy. He pulled himself against her so that his cock was between the cheeks of her ass, the head just below the small of her back.

She felt him start to stroke her, exploring, searching for her clit. It felt good. He ground into her cheeks. She could feel his excitement, tell that he was no longer in control of himself. It was exciting to do this to a man. She thrust back as he ground into her hips, listening to him moan. She was about to come, but he beat her to it.

She heard his primal scream and felt his hot cum as he deposited it onto her back. It pushed her over the edge. She ground herself into his hand as her orgasm swept over her. Afterwards she lay in his arms, enjoying his erotic embrace. "That was wonderful," she whispered to him. "Yes it was babe," he replied. "But I'm not done yet," he added with a smile.