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on his couch, or even on the floor. She indulged in silly fantasies of him driving her home one night, coming into her house, sharing a bottle of wine and falling into the soft sheets of her bed. Laney could imagine him punishing her just as thoroughly on a comfy bed as he did on the edge of his desk.
    It occurred to her, after the second full day of Michael treating her with alarming professionalism, that in order to deserve a good punishment, she would actually have to misbehave.
    She started small, just to test the waters. When she brought Michael his morning coffee the next day, she dropped his muffin on the floor - apologizing profusely, of course, a nd quickly leaving to replace it. His gaze burned into her back until she was out of his sight. Later that morning, she waited until he was emerging from his office for a meeting and 'bumped' into him, losing her balance and clutching his strong, defined upper arms for support. Again, she apologized profusely, and again, he looked at her with the same calculating, intense expression in his eyes.
    He was tied up in meetings the rest of the day so Laney finished the seemingly endless list of tasks left behind by her predecessor. Beverly had been a sweet woman, apparently, but she resisted keeping a backup of anything on the computer and Laney had started creating a digital filing system for all of Michael's active cases. That way, if he called her in a panic one night after hours - Michael had a tendency to bring his work home with him - she could simply access it from her bed and email him whatever file he needed. He had warned her on her first day that this was a likely scenario. Beverly had simply driven to the office and dropped the file off at his home.
    Laney paused as she was scanning a file. Perhaps Beverly had the right idea. She could imagine herself, wearing a heavy coat over a sexy piece of lingerie as she knocked on Michael's door around midnight. He would have his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows giving her the perfect view of those delicious forearms. Maybe he'd even invite her in, and because he was very polite, he might find some way of expressing his gratitude for the late night errand…
    Enough daydreaming. You can drool over him from the privacy of your own sad, lonely bedroom. Sighing, Laney went back to work, unsurprisingly making great progress once she stopped plotting ways to get back into Michael's pants. Not that seducing him had been too much of a challenge - simply dropping to her knees had gotten the job done quite well. Her oral skills aside, she didn't actually want him to think she was a slut (even though she sort of felt like one, for him) and she definitely didn't want him to think she was only interested in an office fling.
    Ill advised or not, Laney liked Michael, genuinely liked him. He had kind eyes, though he could be a bit cool and aloof. There was a dangerous edge to him, not the kind that made you avoid running into him in any dark alleys, but something that told her he wouldn't be an easy man to love. Unfortunately, she had never been good at controlling how she felt and a huge part of her didn't care if it was easy. She just wanted to take a real crack at him.
    Of course, the slutty part of her just wanted to fuck him. Repeatedly. In any way he wanted her.
    Her own thoughts made Laney blush. She had never been one of those women that spoke plainly of orgasms and penis size. Her friends had always teased her, saying she was from a different era; don't be such a prude, Laney , had been a much repeated phrase. Ha! , she thought. If only they had seen her three days ago, down on her knees giving the most enthusiastic blow job of her life to a man she'd met less than a week ago, a man who was supposed to be completely off limits.
    Scratch that. It was for the best no one bore witness to that moment.
    As Laney finished with her work and finally glanced around the office, she realized that everyone had gone home for the evening. A