Tag Archives: Breath Abigail
Mister McIntyre’s Secret
It’s 11:45 and that means that Mister McIntyre is… he is in his meeting. He is in his hotel room right now. He is doing things, things that make me bite my lip just thinking about. How am I supposed to work? How am I supposed to act like nothing is going on. Right now at the Pierre Hotel he is fucking her. Right now he is doing it. Are they naked? Does he take off his socks? Does he make noise?
“Want to go to lunch with us Abigail?”
It’s Paula and Regina. Nice girls, but I’m nervous that someone will call. Something might happen. I have to guard the secrets.
“Oh, no thanks, I brought my lunch.”
They shrugged and giggled to each other. Whispering some little joke. Who cares what they think. Paula had a nose like a pig and her boss was that drunk Mister Grifford. Regina was nice enough, but she wasn’t very bright.
The phone ring and I took a deep breath before I picked it up.
“Fitzgerald Investment Group, Mister McIntyre’s office.”
Silence on the line. A sigh. More silence.
“Douglas McIntyre’s office, may I help you?” I said, a little louder.
“Hello. You’re the secretary, right?”
I knew it was her. I never heard her voice, but I knew. My heart was racing again. One of his secrets come to life with a real voice. Talking to me.
“Y.. yes. This is Abigail. How can I help you?”
There was a low chuckle.
“He’s not in, is he?” her voice was velvet. It made her jealous.
“N.. no. May I ask who’s calling?”
A long pause.
“You know who’s calling. I’m not going to be able to make my appointment and I don’t have the hotel’s number handy.”
Marcy Peterson. Daughter of a client. The spoiled brat.
“I’ll um, I’ll find Mister McIntyre and let him know… Miss Peterson.” my voice lowering to a whisper.
“My, but you are the good secretary.” her honey sarcastic voice purred with the trappings of a rich Connecticut accent. “I suppose you schedule all of Mister McIntyre’s affairs.”
I just sort of let out a little meep. What can you say to that? Secrets are supposed to be secret. Notes in the calendar. Instructions from Mister McIntyre. They aren’t supposed to call.
“I.. I’ll let him know, Ma’am.”
“How old are you… Abby isn’t it?”
I should have just hung up. Would that be rude? People walked by my desk and I wondered what they thought. I was holding on to the phone with both hands. I tried to calm down. Put one hand on the desk. Tried to act like this was just another phone call.
“Well, just a little thing. From your voice I would have said twenty at most. Is it embarrassing? Knowing where your boss goes at lunch? He told me once you were very trustworthy and obedient to the last. It made you sound like a puppy.”
My mouth opened but no words came out. He talked about me? What did he say? He actually sat there with his mistress and said “That Abigail is an obedient secretary.”?
“I try my best.” I squeaked.
She hung up. I numbly dialed the hotel.
“Mister Jefferson, room 732, please.”
It rang several times. My heart can’t take this. It never seems to slow down. It’s no wonder I go home and fall asleep.
“Yes?” his slow deep voice.
“Um, it’s um… your 11:30 appointment had to cancel, sir.”
“She called the office?” he sounded concerned.
“That’s…” he trailed off. “I’ll be back in the office in 15 minutes.”
Back to his office, straighten things up. Make sure everything it set for his meeting. Make sure he has his notes.
Standing in his office with the door closed the day finally got to me. He would be back any minute. Pulling up my skirt and reaching down my panties I am soaked through and through. How do I get this bad? How do I let myself get this worked up?
One hand on his desk and one hand in the tight constraints of my panties and pantyhose. Fast fast. He might come back. Fast his footsteps will be in the hallway any minute. Those gray blue eyes, that chiseled chin, those huge hands. I bet his hands are twice the size of mine. His fingers twice as thick.
Rubbing and rubbing, but I am quiet as a mouse. I would be quiet if he needed me to come into his office. I wouldn’t say a word if he bent me over his desk. I’d be his. His anything. I’d never cancel.
My fist on his hard wood desk as I come and come.
Go to the bathroom. Don’t look up at anyone. Wash my hands, fix my lipstick.
Breath Abigail. Breath.
I’m at my desk just as he gets in.
“Abby, I’m going to need some lunch. Turkey Club. Get yourself…” he stopped, examining me as he got to his door.
“You look a little flushed, everything alright?”
I squirm. His eyes on me. He is looking me over. What can he see?
“Oh, I’m alright.” I laugh awkwardly.