Message-ID: <20555eli$9903140447@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: tiramixu@my-dejanews.com Subject: {assm} Tiramisu "The Office at Night" A Hopper story. MF, no sex Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <7ceieg$4fp$1@nnrp1.dejanews.com> This story is an entry in the Hopper series. CONTENT WARNING: This story has an adult theme and may include graphic descriptions of sexual acts. If it is either illegal where you are, or you are not of legal age to view such material, please stop now. THE OFFICE AT NIGHT, by Tiramisu. MF, no sex. Inspired by the Edward Hopper painting, "The Office at Night" http://www2.iinet.com/art/20th/american/hopper/hopper17.jpg Copyright 1999 by Tiramisu. All rights reserved. Please do not repost without explicit permission of the author. Permission is granted for archiving in ass and assm. Comments are welcome. Please post to assd or Email Tiramixu@yahoo.com. THE OFFICE AT NIGHT Helen Taylor turned from the file cabinet. "Mr. Bartlet, why don't you get home. I'll finish up here. I can sort the attachments, mail out the contract, finish the filing." Andrew Bartlet turned to reply, and noticed the curve of her buttocks, the way her skirt hugged the back of her thigh as she stood at the file cabinet. Not that she was doing anything improper. No, she was always proper. In fact, he'd never looked at her this way before, but the way she was standing there now, he could see the curve of her body, the skirt tight against her hip, the back of her thigh... "Mr. B?" He'd been distracted, momentarily ignoring her question. He hoped he hadn't been staring. "Uh, thanks, Miss Taylor, but we can do it together. It'll go faster that way." "Sure, Mr. B. Just thought you might like to get home to your wife and daughter. Janice, isn't it? And I can finish up." No, not really. Mary had gone to her mother's with 8 year old Janice, so there was no one to go home to. Not that he cared that much about getting home to Mary anyway. "Yes. Thanks, but I'm in no hurry. Mrs. Bartlet went to her mother's with Janice, so I'm batching tonight." She turned back to the file cabinet as he returned his attention to the papers on his desk. He knew she lived alone. She was 29, and unmarried. He wondered why. She was attractive, friendly, smart. Must be lonely for a single woman. His mind went to the curve of her thigh, just below her buttocks, as she stood at the file cabinet. He thought about what it would be like to run his hands over that curve. He turned for another look. Quickly, she turned away. But not quickly enough. Had she been looking at him? He could offer to buy her supper. Only fair, since he had her working so late. And, it had been months since there had been anything physical with Mary. And, he had needs. Not that that had anything to do with buying supper. He was still staring at her, at the curve of her buttocks, when she looked at him again. "Maybe..." she said as she turned, then hesitated. "Yes?" Mr. Bartlet continued to look at his secretary, waiting for her to reply. This time, he was sure she'd caught him staring. She seemed uncomfortable. He looked away. This was foolish, she certainly wouldn't be interested in him, a married man. It was strictly business. She was professional. And anyway, he really couldn't... "Maybe..." He looked up. "Well, maybe since you're alone we could get something to eat together when we finish up. I mean, if you're sure you're not in a hurry to get home. Since you're a bachelor tonight. You know, with having to cook and all." She hesitated, then added nervously, "But I'll still be happy to finish up here if you want to get going." It was bold of her to suggest supper, but surely she didn't mean anything by it. Just being nice. Again offering to finish the work so he could get home. "No," he said, looking at her face, being careful not to look at her body. "Really, I don't mind. We can finish it together." Helen Taylor resumed her filing. Andrew Bartlet went back to the contract on his desk in awkward silence. He hadn't really answered her question. About getting something to eat. He could have supper with her. Maybe she hadn't meant anything more. Or maybe she had. He glanced again at the curve of her buttocks and thigh. Yes, he could have dinner with her. But she had asked, and he had gotten nervous and now she must think he brushed her off. Though, he could still. He could still invite her. He finished assembling the contract, and got up from the desk. "Oh," she said. "You've finished. Good. I'll take them on my way out. Goodnight Mr. Bartlet." "Uh," he said weakly as she took the contract from him and walked toward the door. "Goodnight Miss Taylor." END COPYRIGHT 1999 TIRAMISU -----------== Posted via Deja News, The Discussion Network ==---------- http://www.dejanews.com/ Search, Read, Discuss, or Start Your Own -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----