Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms Read Online Free Page B

perhaps a beat too long, and she reached for them. I recoiled and my voice rose to a chirpy soprano.
    “I can do it,” I said petulantly.
    Trying my best to keep everything as tucked away as I could under the circumstances, I removed the silken boxers and handed them over.
    Mrs. Abrososa—Agrapanthila—looked at them with revulsion.
    “Haines?”
    I shrugged, humiliated. “They’re softer than ours.”
    She grumbled and headed for the door carrying my shame, stopping briefly in the open entryway to turn back to me.
    “It’s sort of sad, really,” she said, glancing down. Not the sort of thing one wants to hear as a woman studies your privates. “She seemed kind of impressed with it, before you went and molested her.” “Impressed?”
    “Oh, yeah. You two might have made a real cute couple.”
    I felt suddenly flush with the thought of Ms. Nuckeby asking me to bare my boyhood for her—smiling and reaching for it.
    “Right up until she sued you for everything you got,” my evil secretary concluded.
    My fantasy degraded as Ms. Nuckeby stopped reaching and just pointed, laughing riotously at my shriveling crotch while rolling around naked in my inheritance. Somehow even that was erotic.
    Gloop.
    Mrs. Abrososa exited, laughing hysterically.
    Rather abruptly my immediate situation overwhelmed me. Naked from the waist down. In a place of business. Erect. After having—mere moments before—sexually assaulted an attractive female employee. It was a rather compromising position. Someone might come by and see. Someone with authority. Someone who’d prefer that, while engaged in my profession, I wore pants.
    What if ‘someone’ was already on their way? A representative from Human Resources with anti-harassment literature, disapproving looks, and things I’d have to sign while not wearing underwear? Or the police to discuss my lewd and lascivious behavior—or worse—to arrest me and haul me downtown in my overexposed state? Or perhaps Ms. Nuckeby’s Schwarzenegger-like father with a machete in one hand, an Uzi in the other, and a cigar to light the explosives he was going to shove up my ass?
    Terrified, I called out through the door.
    “ Mrs. Abrososa? How long do you think it’s going to take? ”
    “ Gimme half an hour, ” she replied.
    I felt a jolt run through me. I couldn’t stay in here—literally bucknaked—while SWAT teams converged on the area! I looked around, nervously trying to figure out what to do next when the phone rang.
    And rang.
    “ Are you going to get that? ” I called.
    No answer. Must have gone into the bathroom, or the closet, or the company kitchen to show off my skid marks to other employees.
    I looked at the phone. Internal line. Reasonably safe. Besides that, all the tension was ‘felling the old redwood’, if you get the supreme subtlety of my meaning, so I felt less perverted and more able to pick up the receiver.
    So I did.
    And heard the sound of an indescribably sexy voice on the other end.
    “Mister Wopplesdown?” Pronounced correctly.
    Gloop.
    “Yes.”
    “Mister Cor-CAR-an Wopplesdown?”
    Well, .500 ain’t bad.
    “Corky. Yes. Who’s calling?”
    “Um…sir? This is Ms. Nuckeby.”
    ‘Mini-Me’ noisily banged a cup of pencils off my desk. “What was that? Is everything all right?”
    “Fine, Ms. Nuckeby, fine,” I said as if, for all the world, I still wore pants. “What can I do for you?”
    “I don’t know if you know who I am, sir, but…“
    “Of course I know who you are, Ms. Nuckeby. You’re the model. The one wearing…”
    “No top.”
    I breathed deeply and fought to keep blood vessels from bursting in my brain. “Yes. Satin-Lace-Babydoll # 43 with no…no…no…em…correct.” I turned nervously, and my ugly stepson slammed the phone’s cradle to the floor where it clanged, banged, and ranged.
    “Did something fall?” she asked. “What’s that ringing? Do you have to answer another line?”
    “Yes. No! Something…uh…I have