Lucky Dice throw for the Intern
Please read: Those of you reading this who are members of Medium may be aware that from 1 August they have changed the way they allocate…
Please read: Those of you reading this who are members of Medium may be aware that from 1 August they have changed the way they allocate payment to the writers. It was indicated it should make it fairer for those writing original work. Early indications for me are that it’s reduced my income between 50%-75%. It’s not a fortune, but it was keeping me in sexy lingerie! So, could you help? Apparently, the more claps and reactions I get, the better my share. So assuming you do enjoy the read, please do either or both. I’ll be EVER so grateful! Love Tracy XXX
I’ve never been a gambler. The thought has never excited me. Certainly winning a few million pounds on the national lottery would be nice, but given the odds, it’s unlikely to happen.
So why that morning was I so excited at the prospect of rolling a dice?
I hadn’t slept from the anticipation. When I’d set the rules, I’d casually thought ‘the second Tuesday of the month’ not realising it arrived on the 8th. Too quick! But if I was going to do this, I was going to stick to it, so that morning was the day. The day I’d wear my button-through dress and leave the number of buttons undone by the random roll of a dice.
The dress has five buttons below the waist. If I threw a six given I was wearing the dress to work, I’d get a free pass. No undone buttons.
I got up, made a coffee, and stood by the kitchen worktop staring at the cube.
In case there are new readers, I’d just say that I’m in a senior management role in a large professional practice. Going to work displaying my legs, stockings and knickers would be a big deal. A major deal. A deal of earth-shattering proportions. For me. I had worn the dress unbuttoned to the waist and walked around in front of a mirror. If I was very careful, avoided quick movements, and kept my steps to a shuffle, if I threw a five, I could keep the dress from exposing my knickers. No hope of stopping my stocking tops and suspenders from peeking out though. I’d just have to avoid moving when others were around.
I needed to throw it. I couldn’t put it off any longer. My heart rate was going through the roof. I found an egg cup, put the dice in it, shook it vigorously, and poured it out.
A two.
Relief that it wasn’t a five. Not on my first outing. I put the dress on and looked in the mirror. Exciting. The last secured button was level with my stocking welt. I’d deliberately chosen a pair with dark tops. The amount on display was, I hoped, enough to titillate anyone who noticed but small enough to be classed as accidental and not have ramifications for my career.
Little did I realise at the time the ramifications it would have.
My journey to the office was uneventful. I’d shown a lot more leg than I was that morning and found it difficult to attract attention. Even cyclists trying to commit suicide by overtaking on the inside as I indicated a left turn failed to notice. I could have undone more buttons. I most definitely felt in the mood, but the rules of the game I’d set said the dress had to stay as it was come what may.
The walk from the car park to my office was uneventful, too. I passed a few colleagues, exchanged a “Good morning” but didn’t notice any eyes flicker down to my thighs.
By the time I’d reached my office, I was frustrated. The anticipation of doing this had been huge. Was the whole day going to be an anti-climax?
Sitting behind my desk wasn’t going to improve matters. I could be naked from the waist down and no one would notice. I had to be proactive.
My work schedule for the day was not overly busy, but as I checked my diary my heart quickened. I’d spotted an opportunity.
I need to take you back a few dozen blogs to when I mentioned the firm had allocated me a couple of interns, the modern word for work experience it seems. I’m amazed none of you have asked if I’d fucked either yet, but the answer is no. Not that I wasn’t tempted, but I’d been a good girl, not mixing work and pleasure. Both interns had settled in, were bright and had pleasant enough personalities, but nothing gave me any indication either was available sexually. Which was a good thing. Temptation removed and all that, but in my mood that day I decided I might push to see if I could raise a flicker of sexual interest.
The entry in my diary that interested me was that it was their monthly assessment. Their section head gave me a short written report each month of their attitude and progress and I had a brief chat with them as to how things were going.
That chat usually happened in my office but was a casual affair. Normally I did them from behind my desk, but I had two easy chairs in my office and decided that would be ideal. I didn’t intend to be blatant, but I doubted, given their position, either would go running off to HR even if I was,
The girl was first, Helen.
The easy chairs were those you find in reception areas, black faux leather, no arms and low. Designed, if you are a tallish woman, to angle your legs so that anyone sitting opposite has a direct view up your skirt, no matter how elegantly you sat. The only way to avoid the voyeur's dream view was to ensure one’s skirt was calf length. Mine was, but with my dice telling me I needed to leave two buttons adrift, it didn’t obstruct the view.
As I said, I wasn’t going to be blatant. This was more ‘market research’ Was I sexy to young people generally, or were John and Debbie just lucky finds?
Helen was wearing a skirt. Our dress code — yes we still have one, I keep telling you how old fashioned we are, only permitted female staff to wear trousers if part of a suit. (I have one, not sure I’ve shown you, I’ll rectify that), but I doubted Helen, a second-year university student, did.
No complaints from me though.
I may have said this before, but I now have to admit to myself I am fully bi. My lesbian side as strong, if not stronger, than my hetro side. In any situation now, I’ll cast my eyes over male and female alike, deciding how much I fancy them.
So don’t be surprised when I say that the view up Helen's skirt gave me a tremor. A tiny white triangle visible at the top of her legs. Tights or stockings were not part of the dress code and she was not wearing either.
I had my legs together, not crossed, too. With the undone buttons I was confident my underwear would be visible too. I kept a careful watch on her eyes as we chatted about her month, but saw nothing to indicate the view interested her. Disappointing, but perhaps unsurprising. I wondered if I’d have more luck with the other intern, Jacob.
As Helen left and I asked her to send him in, I had a sudden impulse to raise the stakes. I ran my mind over my self-imposed rules regarding the dice. Nothing to stop me. I’d need to be quick, but that added to the excitement.
I stood behind my desk, pushed my hands up my skirt, and pulled my knickers off. I’d just put them in my desk drawer when Jacob knocked and walked in. He is a pleasant lad, nothing about him that anyone could take a dislike to, but someone who was unlikely to set the world alight.
Having removed my knickers, I felt more brazen. No surprise there. But this was the office and if at some stage my dice was going to come up with a five, I didn’t want a reputation proceeding me. So, I’d give him a surreptitious show and perhaps leave it at that. Perhaps.
We took our seats, and I started questioning him, asking how things were going. I kept my legs together. As with Helen, I knew that would give him a view anyway, but unlike Helen, he noticed. Quite quickly. I was asking my second question, “Do you understand the complexities of blending the various aspects we work on?” when his eyes locked on my legs briefly. He managed to you’ll them away and look at me but had to ask me to repeat the question. I pretended not to notice what he had seen and carried on, but his eyes couldn’t resist going back. I wasn’t sure that he’d be able to tell I was knickerless as the area up my skirt was hardly in a spotlight and whilst it was exceedingly tempting to open my legs I decided not to. Best leave him thinking it was accidental.
We carried on with his assessment, but to be honest, neither of us were paying much attention. I was watching his eyes. His eyes were watching my legs. Desperate for a better view.
I gave him one. Not some outlandish wide-open-leg view. An elegant slow-motion crossing of the legs. Again, nothing outlandish. Perhaps even indistinguishable from normal time. But slowed down just enough so he would be in no doubt he’d just seen a senior manager’s cunt.
His eyes told me he had. Once my legs were crossed, the two sides of the skirt fell away from my legs, revealing stockings and suspenders. I hurriedly gathered the two sides and pulled them together. As if embarrassed. I wasn’t. Jacob was. But I was willing to bet (yes, I know I said I wasn’t a betting person) he’d treasure the memory.
I had to hold the two sides of the dress to stop them parting again, which was awkward as I had notes to hold. The only solution was to uncross them. I don’t think Jacob objected to the re-run.
He was sitting legs together, hands in his lap, very much the pupil in front of his headmistress, so I couldn’t see what, if any, effect I was having on his cock. Which was a shame.
We were getting towards the end of the interview, and I had to decide what to do. I’m sure you lot would love me to say I locked the office door and got him to fuck me, and to be honest, the thought did momentarily flit through my mind in fantasy form.
Instead, I opted to give him one last image to store in his wank bank. As I said, “Thanks Jacob, we’re really pleased with your attitude. I’m sure when you get your degree we’ll be more than happy to offer you a permanent position.”(Sixty-nining me. I thought, but didn’t say) I leant to one side and placed my notes and pad on the floor. Leaning over to the side caused my legs to part (of course it did!) I didn’t hurry, but spent a few seconds tidying the sheaf of papers. When I sat upright and looked, he was open-mouthed. I didn’t want him to know I knew what he had seen so saved his blushes by saying, “You look surprised. I can assure you, you shouldn’t be. You’ve shown all the attributes we look for in a potential employee. I hope you will consider joining us. How long has your internship got left to run?”
He hesitated before replying, having trouble getting thoughts of my cunt out of his mind, I assumed, but eventually managed to focus. “Thank you Tracy,” (we had managed to move with the times enough for everyone to be addressed by their Christian names). “I’d like that. I think I’m here for another four weeks.”
“Excellent. We’ll have another chat before you go.” That seemed to please him!
He went back to work, and I returned to my desk.
I would probably have done what I did without the dice aspect, but that had loaded my day with sexual anticipation. I can’t wait to see what next month will bring. Oh, and I’ve changed the rules slightly. I had decided throwing a six would give me a pass. Too boring. The new rule is throwing a six means all five buttons undone and no knickers! Madness.
