I set the manilla folder on the counter and turned to him. He had his back to me, locking the door.“My bedroom,” He stated.I hesitated.“Now!”I...jumped slightly, but turned and ran into his big bedroom. I was wearing jeans and a tank-top, with a white, short sleeved button up blouse.I stood by the window.In a second, DeAndre was in the doorway.Almost frantic, I looked around the room. The only escape was the doorway which my 6'3” boss was standing in.“DeAndre...” My voice came out quieter, weaker. I looked him in the eye, and though maybe I was drunk and maybe I was reading signs wrong, but I was sure he wanted to fuck me, well, at least fuck my inner slut. Maybe I, or at least my inner slut, wanted to fuck him. Here I was, letting that door open a bit wider with each shot. My inner slut easily slipped out and began to tell him all about herself. I said, ‘Well, I get turned on by the way this blouse feels on me. It’s comfortable and with my camisole, conservative enough for work. But it. More

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