Free NSFW (Regular Sex Issue #6) by Kitty French Page B

safety regulations that come into play there.’
    Anderton’s eyes
gleam, and Mr. Barone seems impressed by his answer.  
    ‘And you, Mr.
Spencer?’ Barone says. ‘When you visit, how comfortable will you be with
nakedness?’
    There is a
charged silence in the room for a few long moments, and then Anderton reaches
for the knot of his tie and slowly drags it loose. He slides it from around his
neck, rolls it up, and lays it on the table.
    When his assured
fingers remove the cufflinks from his shirt I realise what he’s going to do and
my heart starts to beat faster. How far will he go to prove he’s the right man
for the job? Oh Jesus, he’s unbuttoning the buttons down the front of his
shirt. This is the stuff my fantasies are made of; I just wish there weren’t
six strangers in the room watching him with me.
    You could hear a
pin drop in here right now. No one moves so much as an eye muscle. Who would? I
certainly can’t take my eyes off his body as he shrugs the shirt slowly over
his shoulders and removes it. He takes an unhurried moment to lay it over the
back of his chair.
    Oh. My. Days.
Honestly, just... honestly. I’ve spent many, many hours wondering what goes on
beneath Anderton Spencer’s work shirts, and in all of my fantasies I don’t
think he’s ever been this good. His skin is the colour of buttery vanilla fudge,
a soft gold that gleams in the winter sunlight that floods the room and he’s
defined in a loose-limbed, lean way; limber like a boxer. Fine, tawny chest
hair tapers away down the muscles of his stomach. Through the glass table I
watch him bend momentarily to his shoes, and when he straightens up I can almost
hear the music from the Full Monty playing in my head because he’s unbuckling
his belt and staring right at me.
    I lick my lips. I
can’t help it. I want to eat him. I try to arrange my face into an expression of
neutral encouragement rather than a leer; I’m not sure how successful I am
though, because I’m internally leering so hard that my tongue wants to hang out
of my mouth.
    It’s enough,
really; he’s proved his point. Barone could stop him now. I glance the old boy’s
way to see if he looks as if he’s about to speak. He’s lucky that he isn’t,
because if he was, I’d have launched myself across this glass table and
strangled him with Anderton’s carefully rolled tie.
    When I look back
at Anderton, he’s paused and he’s still staring at me.
    I slowly realise
that everyone else in the room is staring at me now too. What? Did I whimper?
Did I beg out loud for him to keep going without realising it?
    Anderton lets the
smallest of secret smiles pass between us, and then looks pointedly down at my
blouse. Realisation dawns, and although it’s a scenario I’ve wildly imagined,
the fact that he’s actually suggesting that I strip in front of these people comes
as a shock.
    I get to my feet.
He’s at least ten foot away from me and there are six people in between us, but
even so I’m sure I can smell his distinctive scent from all the way here. I
reach for the top button of my blouse and slip it open.
     
    I can’t believe
she’s going for it. I’ll give it to Jenna Walker, she’s a woman with beauty,
brains, and, so it would seem, balls. I wish I could round the table and
unbutton her blouse for her, but as it is I let my hands rest on my belt and
luxuriate in watching her open it herself. If we’re both going to get naked, I’m
ahead of her, so I do the gentlemanly thing and give her time to catch up. I’m
also giving myself time to watch her undress, because it’s just about the
sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve been to strip bars and watched more porn
than is good for my health, but watching my desirable secretary take her blouse
off in the middle of an important boardroom meeting is something I’ll be happy
to remember in my dying moments.
    She’s just popped
the last of her buttons and is opening her blouse, and oh fucking hell, sweet
baby