Employee Surprise
This is a brief recount of an experience I had with, believe it or not, one of my now-former employees. I’m in my 30s, and Melissa (her name for these purposes) is a shade over 21, but, we’ve always been more personal than employer-employee. I knew her before I hired her, and, until the working relationship went down the tubes, along with essentially our personal friendship (lesson here, folks: never hire friends), she and I were no strangers to flirting and teasing each other. I’ll admit, it was a lot of fun before her work got to be crappy.
Anyway, she’d often stop by to discuss work and personal things, and I’d also fix her laptop computer, a duty which her former boyfriend once did for her. That alone hinted to me that she saw me as a friend, employer, and, maybe something else? Late one weekday, she stopped by for reasons listed above, and we proceeded to talk, work, and toss the occasional flirt. I’d comment on her attire, which typically exposed just enough skin to be teasingly sexy, and she’d eat it up, highlighting what her shirt or pants/shorts “did to guys”. In short, she knew she was sexy and used it. Young women do that and don’t think men know it’s on purpose.
We finished, and, as I’d often do, I proposed going to get something to eat. Melissa accepted, and we were off, a rare “just us” type thing, minus the wife or anyone else Melissa knew. This excited us both, to the extent she commented “I dunno..Dating the boss-man!”, likening our evening dinner to a date. Not five minutes into the drive, she whips out the makeup and starts applying it to her watery-blue eyes and soft cheeks. “I’m a mess” she said, “I should have gone home and changed clothes”. Making a turn into a steak place’s parking lot, I had to reply to such a ridiculous notion. “You know you’re never a mess..And that shirt looks great on you..I love that little, peaking navel thing women do”, firing off a flirt and compliment towards her attire and hot little body.
That was all she needed to set her own flirty fires, as I’d find out once she’d gotten out of the car and stood up. “I have these low-cut jeans I wear with this shirt..Shows all the way down to near my undies..Down here..” she teased me, flipping her jeans down to expose more tummy and lower-ab skin than I’d seen on her. Drove me crazy. All that went through my mind was “Jesus, look at her..Worker, schmorker..She’s sexy as hell”. As the night progressed, we ate, had a few drinks, and joked around, laughing a lot. It FELT like a date with her, that’s for sure.
On the way out of the double doors, Melissa threw her arm around my shoulder, saying ‘That was fun..Thanks so much”, but curiously left it there for several walking steps. Figuring, hey, this is another, albeit heightened flirt, I put my arm around her bare-skinned waist, and gave her sides a little tickle. “Oh, you’re welcome..You’re fun to be around” That was IT. She exhaled laughter ten times as bad as during our joking around moments earlier, and told me “Oh my god! I am SO TICKLISH!”, as if to tell me, “Now that you know, please don’t”. It was still a fun mood, though, so my arm and hand stayed put. As did hers. We were both liking this maybe a little more than either of us should have, but, neither of us cared.
At my car, I, the gentleman, opened her door first. However, as she stood in front of me, I couldn’t help but reach out and swirl-tickle her soft, fully exposed navel again, only this time, with a direct hit, and I didn’t stop there. “Ahhh!! No no tickling! Haaahh!” she was wailing with laughter as my hand went all the way up and down her stomach to her ribs, ever so close to her well-developed breasts (don’t know how I held back on going for them). Melissa tried to tickle me in return, but, was far too weak to succeed. Seemed the sides and waist poking were what got her the most crazy and wound-up, squeaking like a store-bought doggie toy.
This went on for a good 5 minutes straight before I let up and opened the car door for her. Melissa sat inside, still red and laughing, trying to compose herself, but realistically knowing that wasn’t possible. “You are BAD!” she told me, “I’m never going to live this down, am I? That you know I’m ticklish!”. Confirming her last statement, I cautioned her to “Watch what you do from now on..Now I know what your weak spot is”, saying it in jest with a hint of seriousness. It was one of those moods that just begged for more, even a quick lip kiss, but, sad to say, we didn’t.
When we got back to my house, I talked to her as we headed for her car. Giving me this super-sly look, Melissa left me with a question (which ended up never being answered, dammit!), “Talk to you tomorrow..And, hey, what would you say if I told you I…kinda liked that..what you just did?”. Why, oh, why, did her work have to go downhill to the point I had to let her go? By now, I would have had the answer to her question.
This is a brief recount of an experience I had with, believe it or not, one of my now-former employees. I’m in my 30s, and Melissa (her name for these purposes) is a shade over 21, but, we’ve always been more personal than employer-employee. I knew her before I hired her, and, until the working relationship went down the tubes, along with essentially our personal friendship (lesson here, folks: never hire friends), she and I were no strangers to flirting and teasing each other. I’ll admit, it was a lot of fun before her work got to be crappy.
Anyway, she’d often stop by to discuss work and personal things, and I’d also fix her laptop computer, a duty which her former boyfriend once did for her. That alone hinted to me that she saw me as a friend, employer, and, maybe something else? Late one weekday, she stopped by for reasons listed above, and we proceeded to talk, work, and toss the occasional flirt. I’d comment on her attire, which typically exposed just enough skin to be teasingly sexy, and she’d eat it up, highlighting what her shirt or pants/shorts “did to guys”. In short, she knew she was sexy and used it. Young women do that and don’t think men know it’s on purpose.
We finished, and, as I’d often do, I proposed going to get something to eat. Melissa accepted, and we were off, a rare “just us” type thing, minus the wife or anyone else Melissa knew. This excited us both, to the extent she commented “I dunno..Dating the boss-man!”, likening our evening dinner to a date. Not five minutes into the drive, she whips out the makeup and starts applying it to her watery-blue eyes and soft cheeks. “I’m a mess” she said, “I should have gone home and changed clothes”. Making a turn into a steak place’s parking lot, I had to reply to such a ridiculous notion. “You know you’re never a mess..And that shirt looks great on you..I love that little, peaking navel thing women do”, firing off a flirt and compliment towards her attire and hot little body.
That was all she needed to set her own flirty fires, as I’d find out once she’d gotten out of the car and stood up. “I have these low-cut jeans I wear with this shirt..Shows all the way down to near my undies..Down here..” she teased me, flipping her jeans down to expose more tummy and lower-ab skin than I’d seen on her. Drove me crazy. All that went through my mind was “Jesus, look at her..Worker, schmorker..She’s sexy as hell”. As the night progressed, we ate, had a few drinks, and joked around, laughing a lot. It FELT like a date with her, that’s for sure.
On the way out of the double doors, Melissa threw her arm around my shoulder, saying ‘That was fun..Thanks so much”, but curiously left it there for several walking steps. Figuring, hey, this is another, albeit heightened flirt, I put my arm around her bare-skinned waist, and gave her sides a little tickle. “Oh, you’re welcome..You’re fun to be around” That was IT. She exhaled laughter ten times as bad as during our joking around moments earlier, and told me “Oh my god! I am SO TICKLISH!”, as if to tell me, “Now that you know, please don’t”. It was still a fun mood, though, so my arm and hand stayed put. As did hers. We were both liking this maybe a little more than either of us should have, but, neither of us cared.
At my car, I, the gentleman, opened her door first. However, as she stood in front of me, I couldn’t help but reach out and swirl-tickle her soft, fully exposed navel again, only this time, with a direct hit, and I didn’t stop there. “Ahhh!! No no tickling! Haaahh!” she was wailing with laughter as my hand went all the way up and down her stomach to her ribs, ever so close to her well-developed breasts (don’t know how I held back on going for them). Melissa tried to tickle me in return, but, was far too weak to succeed. Seemed the sides and waist poking were what got her the most crazy and wound-up, squeaking like a store-bought doggie toy.
This went on for a good 5 minutes straight before I let up and opened the car door for her. Melissa sat inside, still red and laughing, trying to compose herself, but realistically knowing that wasn’t possible. “You are BAD!” she told me, “I’m never going to live this down, am I? That you know I’m ticklish!”. Confirming her last statement, I cautioned her to “Watch what you do from now on..Now I know what your weak spot is”, saying it in jest with a hint of seriousness. It was one of those moods that just begged for more, even a quick lip kiss, but, sad to say, we didn’t.
When we got back to my house, I talked to her as we headed for her car. Giving me this super-sly look, Melissa left me with a question (which ended up never being answered, dammit!), “Talk to you tomorrow..And, hey, what would you say if I told you I…kinda liked that..what you just did?”. Why, oh, why, did her work have to go downhill to the point I had to let her go? By now, I would have had the answer to her question.
Last edited:
