The Wrong “J”

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“What the….?!?” Jim nearly choked out the words. He’d been pinging his team on the office IM app about being on the wrong end of another Superbowl blowout, with two minutes left, when a message ping’d from an address at his office.

“OK…bet’s a bet…but you promised to delete and never tell!”

Jim opened it. There was a young woman, wearing a very skimpy bra, sheer enough that her achingly hard nipples showed through. He clicked back and the message disappeared. Whoever had sent it in error must have quickly realized and then deleted it almost immediately.

“What’s the matter?” Jim’s wife looked over from the couch.

“Oh…nothing. Phone acting weird.” He checked to be sure, but it was gone.

When they’d updated apps at the office, Jim got the simplest version of his name, based on his spot on the org chart. Which seems like a perk, until you’re stuck forwarding messages whenever auto-fill mistakenly dropped in his name after the first couple of letters.

Padding out to the kitchen to get water, later that night, it occurred to check the temp folder on his phone. He nearly missed the kitchen stool backing kahramanmaraş escort up when he pulled up the photo in all its original glory. He vaguely recognized her. She hadn’t been there that long. Worked somewhere downstairs, Marketing?…maybe HR? New hire, few months back. Entry, like first job right out of college.

There she was. Jim felt his chest tighten as he drank in every visible inch of her. Wide open blue eyes, excited or embarrassed taking the selfie, deeply flushed cheeks, goosebumps on the swell of her breasts, a light sprinkling of freckles making her look younger than she must be. Pale blond hair framing delicate features.

As much as he wanted to focus on her small, pert breasts, stare at the hint of her pale nipples, he was overwhelmed by how lovely, how utterly vulnerable, she looked. He was hopelessly, deeply aroused. Her delicate beauty magnified by him being privy to something so impossibly intimate that it felt like a dream.

Struggling to focus the next morning, managing around a backup routine that had failed overnight, Jim nearly choked again, looking kastamonu escort up to a light knock on his office door. Because there she was, just standing there. Wearing a prim, charcoal skirt, fully buttoned cream blouse, thin binder clutched to her chest, like a shield, for protection.

“Mr. Harris?…”, she hadn’t stuttered, but there was a breathiness that made her sound slightly terrified. “I’m Katrine…from…from HR?”

Time stopped while Jim struggled to think. “HR…?”, he looked at his desk, stalling. “I’m…sorry…I…I know annual reviews had to be in last week.” He looked up plaintively. “It’s been a mess up here. I’m only halfway through.” He tried a helpless smile. “Can you buy me a couple more days if I can get them in Friday?”

She opened her mouth, then quickly shut it again. “Ummm…yeah.” She mumbled, eyes flitting over his face. “Of course. I’ll…let them know…to expect them then.” She turned, stopped and then did her best not to run down the hall.

Jim waited, just long enough for her to turn the corner, before grabbing his phone, pulling up the picture kayseri escort and quickly deleting it, before clearing his trash and temp folders, too. Releasing a shuddering breath, he began rehearsing his denial, for if, or when, HR called.

Then…nothing. For two whole weeks. He’d spotted Katrine in passing a few times, but did his level best to look warm, friendly and completely clueless each time.

Until messenger ping’d on his phone at lunch. The sender name was simply the letter “K”.

“you never told anyone, did you?”

“sorry?….”

(smiley) “you’re not a very good liar”

“what about?” heart-racing, finger trembling. He hit send.

“seems like you can keep a secret tho…” a pic popped up. “…in case you deleted it…”

Jim’s breath hitched. It was the superbowl picture. He looked up guiltily from the table, scanned the small, crowded, noisy bistro, his throat tight. His now achingly hard cock, straining uncomfortably, at a completely wrong angle, pointed down his suit trousers.

“why?…” His heart thumped, waiting for a reply, jittery with excitement.

“I guess once I finally got over being scared and embarrassed, I just kept thinking about it….your sweet, embarrassed eyes…from that next morning….but looking at me…like this…”

Another image file quickly popped open. Her small, slender, pale body, completely naked, reflected in a full length mirror. It cut off just above her chin.

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