I work in a small office as the IT guy – mainly programming and grunt work when it comes up. It’s a pretty good place and I enjoy the work. I’ve been a computer nerd since I was a kid and I taught myself everything computer related: fixing computers, programming, some networking… everything. I never seemed to bother with college and I only have vague ideas about trying it out some time. I just find that I can teach myself better with real world issues.

I liked to read a lot and played tons of games (yes, I was a D&D nerd) when I was growing up so I was pretty chunky. The ugly glasses and bad fashion sense didn’t help my image but I blame growing up in the 80s and not having parents that really cared one way or the other. I mean, seriously. Parents shouldn’t let their kids out of the house in a tent for a t-shirt and glasses larger than their face.

Now, though, I keep in shape by running occasionally and eating somewhat healthy… ish. I got tired of being fat when I was out of high school and decided to do something about it. Along the way I learned I enjoyed it. I really like the feeling of running flat out until I’m exhausted. It’s like I’m testing my limits and finding out how far I can go… and then if I can go further the next day. I could still stand to lose a little extra weight but I’m doing well.

Once most of the fat went away I learned that I inherited my parent’s good looks. I’m no show stopper but I do well and I’m told I have a boyish face. I’m thinking of growing a beard but I had a traumatic experience with “face pubes” when I was younger so I’m a little reluctant. What if it looks like I rolled around in pubic hair with my face slathered in glue?

I’m keeping in shape and I enjoy my job. I think I’m pretty smart as far as that goes. I know enough to get by but mostly I understand there is so much I don’t know. I also have a healthy sense of curiosity. Most of the times I will actually look around me when walking — up at tall buildings, on the ground around me, at other people walking, everywhere. You’d be surprised at what’s around you. Case in point – walking up a steep sidewalk I noticed a half-naked creepy old guy standing at his window (slightly below street level because of the incline) staring at people walking by.

So, I’m happy except for one thing – relationships. I’m shy. No getting around that – remember me growing up a nerd? I don’t faint when a woman looks at me but I also can’t build up the courage to start a conversation. When I was younger, I once spent 20 minutes at a bar, goading myself into asking a pretty girl if I could buy her a drink. That didn’t work out so well. I’ve gone out on some dates and have had some experience with women but I never seemed to find what I was looking for – or she didn’t and the relationship never started.

Speaking of working up the courage to ask someone out – I have a crush on my coworker. She’s maybe 5’7″ (to my just-under-six) with a lean body, shoulder length brown hair. She’s no super model but, really, who cares? You’d take a second glance if you were a guy and she walked past you but you’d mostly think, “Huh, she’s cute.” Not drop-dead gorgeous but she is self-confident and has this little half-smirk on her face most of the time, like she just thought of a hilarious dirty joke and she’s about to tell everyone. We both have a sarcastic sense of humor and neither of us has a problem making fun of the other.

While I like my job I have to say she definitely makes it that much more enjoyable. I’ve thought about asking her out but she’s my coworker and I have no idea how she feels about me personally. Also, I’m a guy so I’m stereotypically blind to “signs” and I temper what I think are hints with the knowledge that I’m probably being overly optimistic about her. I probably have PTSD from the girl at the bar.

Fast forward to now – a Thursday in February and I’ve been looking forward to Friday all week. It seems like all of our printers decided to take a dump at the same time and I already hate printers.

I got in some time after 7:30 and my coworker, Sarah, isn’t in yet but it’s no big deal since our company is pretty easy going. I start the day tackling some of the more minor projects while I wait for her to show up.

Sarah arrives a little after 8 and grunts in reply to my “good morning.” It’s not freezing but she’s wearing a pretty heavy coat. I check her out through pure reflex and today she’s wearing thin slipper-like shoes with gray and black stripped pants. She has a cute little rounded butt. Not big, really but its not flat like a board and I appreciate that. Her jacket spoils the view a bit since it’s so big. She seems withdrawn and doesn’t want to talk so I go back to cursing at printers.

Our area is small (2 cubicles) and stuck in a corner so there’s some privacy. Usually we make fun of users and trade jokes back and forth but today she’s acting strange. She’s shifting around in her chair a lot, not concentrating and occasionally glancing my way. My ego would like to think she’s fallen madly in love with me but, more likely, she’s sick and is working up to tell the boss that she’s leaving for the day. However, she doesn’t leave and she keeps quiet all day. The one time I ask if she’s okay she just shrugs her shoulders and tells me she’s fine. She sounds like she’s coming down with a cold but I leave her alone.

The day drags on to 3 o’clock and it’s mostly a standard day – a little bit of computer maintenance and some programming here and there. I do all of the computer work today since she’s not feeling good. She doesn’t ask me to do it but I don’t mind; there were plenty of times she’s worked on my projects so I could get a break. From what I can see by glancing, I think she’s just moving her mouse around every so often and looking up websites. I see the Mayo Clinic website once or twice so I was right about her not feeling good. Whatever it is, it must be something other than a cold if she has to look it up.

From 3 to 4 o’clock my routine falls into doing a little bit of work and then looking at the time in the bottom-right corner of the monitor. Every 5 minutes. I swear to god.

People slowly file out and I can hear our warehouse guys turning off the heavy machinery. We do large scale printing and we’re shutting down the warehouse for three days. Our company sent out two huge orders so we’re flush until next week. I hear they had the warehouse working overtime on the projects and they’re letting them have a three day weekend to make up for some of the extra hours.

The time gods (Cronos? Chronos? Or was that someone else?) hear my prayer and 4 o’clock finally hits. Just as I’m about to get ready to go, Sarah finally talks to me.

“Hey.” She says (startlingly me – she’s been so quiet all day). “I need you to help me out with something.”

“Sure. What’d you need?” At this point I’m mostly glad she’s even talking to me. I was half worried she was pissed at me for something. I stand up, assuming she needs me to look at something on her desk or computer.

She hesitates. She’s still sitting and I do my best not to look down her shirt but I can see the tops of her breasts. She doesn’t have a big rack but they look like a nice handful. The shirt she’s wearing is a brown top with a somewhat low neckline. Her skin is smooth and white with a sprinkling of freckles. She’s got a nice neck – a tad thin and a little long. I appreciate the sweep from her shoulders up to her chin. It’s graceful. Now that I see her, she does seem slightly paler. Almost flushed.

She stands up, too. Her tongue darts to the corner of her mouth and she looks over my shoulder for a moment before looking back to me. “I’m trusting you here.” she says. “Come with me for a second.” I wrinkle my eyebrows. That’s not like her at all. She grabs her jacket and puts it on before turning to walk. She’s awkward with the coat and it almost seems like her body isn’t moving the way she wants.

I follow her. “Lead the way.” I answer lamely. Is it something with her car? I hope not. I can … I can probably change the oil in a car and probably get the tires off but that’s about it.

Rather than going outside, she heads out to the warehouse through a little path towards the back and makes for the stairs leading up to the second floor. We keep some old files and other junk stored up there. So, yeah. Odd. She doesn’t talk as she’s walking. Me? I’m staring at her ass. Actually staring. I’m not glancing out of the corner of my eyes here; my eyes are locked onto her ass. I don’t usually do that but I can’t help it. Those pants are even tighter than I thought.

My dick notices. I have a raging hard-on. The boner is not fueled by some fantasy of her taking me to some secluded spot and ripping my clothes off because my brain hasn’t even made it past staring at her ass. Her pant legs make suush-suush-suush noises as she walks. I never understood how women (and some men, I suppose) could wear such tight clothes all the time. I’m not complaining in this case, mind you. Although, I thought the pants fit her slightly loosely earlier?

As she starts up the stairs I find myself having a hard time keeping a decent thought in my head. Did she always have such a fine ass? Have I never noticed? Her jacket is slightly too large and covers the top half of her ass cheeks but … they’re so round and firm looking.

God. Now I’m imagining pushing her against the top rail of the staircase and taking her from behind – slamming my dick hard between those lovely cheeks. I’m almost drooling from the thought of it. My pulse is racing and I have to keep swallowing and wetting my lips. I think my hands are shaking, too.

We reach the top of the stairs so I try to stop staring at her so hard. It’s actually physically difficult to pick my head up and stare at the back of her head. I have to force myself to keep my hand from my crotch. All I want to do is rub myself. Or grab her and do… something with her. My mind can’t seem to decide.

The top of the stairs look out to the whole warehouse. I’m glad everyone’s gone because I’m somehow sure they’d be able to hear my thoughts from a mile away or they’d wonder why I have a baseball bat down my pants leg. I tell myself to get my shit together and keep my eyes above her shoulders.

Ah, but then I see the back of her neck and that sets off a whole new chain of thought. The area that sweeps up from the shoulder to the side of her neck is taunting me. My brain tries to dig out old school knowledge and all it can come up with is tendon- something-something. I can picture myself kissing her there and nibbling a little. I’m drooling again. I want to fuck her so bad and I’m not even one of those guys. You know – arrogant guys that think all the women want them. I watch porn. I like porn. I like women. I just don’t stare at every single woman out there and immediately think of banging them. Damn. My balls are throbbing and aching.

I push myself through the fog and try to not think of any part of her body. She leads me to the middle of the room near one of the main shelves and then turns around. It’s hot up here but she keeps her jacket on. It looks like she’s about to break out in a sweat and she still sneaks glances over my shoulder. I half-turn to see what’s going on when she talks again.

“Swear to me, ” she starts. “Swear to me that this stays here. We’ve worked together and I trust you. You don’t make fun of me for this and you don’t tell anyone else about it. I need some help and you’re it.” I’m taken aback by her seriousness. So much so that I forget about all the different positions I’d like to have her in right now.

“Yeah, of course. I swear.” I assure her. It’s true. I’m not an asshole. I’m sarcastic and I give people a hard time but I know my limits and I usually know how much people can take and when not to push it. “What’s going on?” I was really, really starting to hope this would turn into some kinky secret-sex-at-work thing but apparently not. Damn. I’ll have to masturbate so many times tonight to work this ache out of me.

She’s nervous. She stares at the floor, at the ceiling and then back to me. Obviously she’s working up her nerves and having a hard time telling me whatever she needs to tell me. My brain starts in with thinking of pushing her back against the wall before I shut it down and think about a white square on a black background. It sounds stupid but it keeps me thinking about something safe. I’m starting to worry about myself and I think a trip to the strip club is on the menu for tonight.

She stares straight at me this time and then takes off her jacket. I can see little beads of sweat below her hairline. She wets her lips. My eyes follow her tongue in slow motion and I automatically imagine her going down on me. Fuck. White square. Black background. White square… It’s been a long time since I got laid but this is ridiculous. Now I’m getting hot and I’m not wearing a damn jacket. I can feel my cheeks burning as if I’m blushing like a… like a… like a what?

“I need you to look at something. You stay where you are and you look at it and tell me what it is. You don’t touch me. You don’t get near me. You don’t laugh at me or make fun of me. Deal?” Whatever it is, she must be upset because her voice goes husky at the end. Is she going to cry? If so, why am I getting more turned on? Is it her voice or the thought of her crying?

“I said I’d be good and I don’t even know what’s going on. What…” I falter. I seriously do want to just grab her, rip her shirt off and suck on her nipples. I mean, they’re right there. Is she even wearing a bra? Is it my imagination making me think I’m seeing her rock hard nipples pressing against her shirt? I swallow and try again. “What is going on?”

Great. Now I’m staring at her chest. White square, black background. White circle… circle? I see the swell of her breasts pressing against her shirt and her nipples look like they’re trying to break their way through. They’re somewhat flattened against whatever the fabric is of her shirt and, yeah, she is wearing a bra. I think she picked the wrong ones because they’re too small for her. Her breasts are making the outline of the bra that much more visible. Damn. Fuck a “decent handful.” Her tits are firm and large. C-cup? I’m bad about bra sizes. I swear to god her cleavage is deeper than it was earlier.

She doesn’t notice me staring or doesn’t care. She just looks at me, wets her lips again and turns around.

Then, I see it. She doesn’t need to do it but she pulls her pants down ever so slightly (maybe just a couple inches) and pulls her shirt up an inch or two. She leans against the shelf next to her with both hands and has her head down.

“What is it?” She asks. “I’ve been feeling fucked up all day and I felt something back there earlier. What the fuck is it?!” Her voice is still husky but I don’t even notice. I’m staring at it.

“It’s… Jesus Christ.” I take a step forward. There is a nub just above her ass crack. I take that back. It’s more than a nub. It’s about 3 inches long and has hair on it. Thick brown hair.

I watch as it wriggles slightly back and forth. “Jesus Christ… I think it’s a tail!”

She shudders. Or shakes. I don’t know. I’m transfixed. It’s not just the tail. She’s got a dark patch of hair running from the small of her back up into her shirt. And that thing *is* moving. Slightly. Side to side. Wait… is it a little longer? I can almost see her crotch and I’m praying that her pants fall down. I somehow figured she’d be the kind of person to show her bones more – you know how some skinny people’s hip bones show a little bit? She’s not one of those people. She’s padded. Strong looking. How in the world did she fit in those pants?

Wait, what’s wrong with me? She’s got a fucking tail growing out of the base of her spine! I hear myself yelling that in my own mind but my eyes keep following the curve of her back and the way her hip is shaped. Now I notice that the hair on the small of her back seems darker already and more spread out.

Sarah turns her head and looks at me from the side. “A what? Are you… are you f… fucking kidding me?”

I can’t help myself anymore. My hard-on has not gone away, her ass is right there and I can’t think straight. This smell… What is it? It’s musky and it makes me grind my teeth together. I take the two steps left between us and grab the base of her nub… tail… whatever with my right hand and… and I pull her against me.

“HEY!” she yells. “Don’t…!” She starts to turn toward me, hands still on the shelf.